


Ghost in the Shadows

by Ursus_minor



Category: Crimson Peak (2015), Crimson Peak (2015) RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Reader is scared of ghosts, Reluctant at First, Reluctant friends, Slow Burn, Thomas Sharpe is a ghost, Thomas is depressed, Thomas is protective, Thomas is sweet, Thomas is withdrawn and ashamed of his past, comes to terms with his past, eventuell smut I guess, falling in love with a ghost, falls for reader, lots of fluff for sure :)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2019-11-13 03:46:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 38,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18024074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ursus_minor/pseuds/Ursus_minor
Summary: Northern England, can be a rugged, bitter place in winter when the cold winds whip over the barren countryside and storms keep you snowed in for days.Desperate for money to pay back your debts you rented out your cosy little New York apartment over the winter months and signed up for a housekeeping job in an old English mansion.Nothing could have prepared for what you find.Have you ever wondered what would happen if you fell in love with a ghost? Hmm...Got inspired while writing another story where Thomas makes an appearance and I couldn't let him go after the reader, because Loki was already on her case. So now he's got his own fic.





	1. Chapter 1

The moment you entered the hall, you knew this house was positively haunted. Everything about it basically screamed haunted.

The roaring fire in the fire place opposite the entrance, the wide staircase that ascended to the ominous upper levels, the wooden upside down spires that hung like spikes from the ceiling, threatening to fall down and pierce you. Not to mention all the rest of the gothic elements that made the house look like Dracula's hunting lodge rather than a simple English mansion - as which it was described in the job offer.

It had an overall dark and gloomy atmosphere.

And of course, there were the portraits. Portraits with those eyes that followed you around no matter where you stood.

_Jesuschrist. This was the most creepy place you had ever set foot in._

You put your bags down and made the sign of the cross.

Not that you were Christian – but you were certainly considering for a moment if this was a good time to start praying and believing in god. 

Plus, you could really do with all the help you can get here.

_What exactly had driven you to sign up for this?_

_Ah, yes. The money._

A sum too large to be overlooked.

_You should have known there was a catch._

But nevertheless, the money would not only cover those debts you had, but also leave a little more to live on.

The door fell into its lock behind you with a loud clank and you almost jumped out of your skin.

A moment later, an eerie, cold draft, swept past you and the fire roared up, flames dancing wildly, before it all became still again.

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

_Your hands were shaking._

_Your worst nightmare had just come through and triggered your overly active imagination._

_How were you going to survive this?_

You would surely die of adrenal burnout before you even started the job.

“Ah, Miss Y/L/N! How wonderful to see you! I'm Mrs Hudson. The housekeeper.”

You jumped and spun around, watching a small woman in a purple dress approach you with a bright smile on her face that stood in dark contrast to the gloomy atmosphere.

Your eyes must have been as big as saucers and you evidently looked like a deer in the headlights, because Mrs Hudson's expression turned from cheerfulness to one of concern.

“Are you alright, darling?”

You opened your mouth, but then decided just to nod.

“Frightened?”

“To be honest. I'm _terrified_.” You admitted.

She glanced at you, then broke into a warm smile.

“I've got the best cure for that. Homemade hot chocolate. Come. Leave your bags here, we'll take them up to your room later.”

“Uh. Ok.”

You followed her down the hall towards the fire place, where she took a right and walked into the kitchen, busying herself right away with pulling chocolate, cocoa and sugar out of cupboards and whisking them in a pot together with milk before she placed it on an old style wood-fired stove.

“I didn't think they would send us a city girl. Don't get me wrong, darling, but this is North English countryside. The winters are harsh here, and you have to work hard. You'll ruin your pretty nails, I'm afraid.”

“I don't mind working hard.” 

“You'll have no choice, you'll probably be alone here a lot of the time.”

_Good lord. Alone? In this place?_

“Really? I thought I was just meant to help out with keeping the house clean and tidy over the winter months. It didn't say that I was going to be here – by – by myself.”

“Well, you'll be doing the job mostly by yourself. The cleaning, dusting, you'll have to keep the fires going if you want it warm. My sister's just gone to hospital, so I have to go into London for a few weeks to be with her.”

“Uh-ok.”

That wasn't exactly the best news.

“So who else lives here?”

“Hm?”

“You keep speaking of 'us', so I guess there are others?”

She started humming softly while she stirred the pot.

“Oh, yes. Rosy and Gerty, they're helping me, but they'll be going back to their family around Christmas. Oh, and then there's Thomas, lives up under the roof. Don't bother with him. He ususally doesn't speak much and looks after himself.” She sighed “And sometimes we have unwanted guests, but we'll cross that bridge when we get there.”

She smiled, poured the dark brown liquid out of the sauce pan and put a cup of thick, steaming hot chocolate in front of you.

_Ohmygod. It looked delicious._

“Would you like some whipped cream with that?”

“That sounds like a good plan. I will need all the fat and sugar I can get to survive here.”

You took a careful sip.

_OHMYGOD. It tasted divine._

Mrs Hudson seemed like a woman who had seen a lot in her life and had managed to stay cheerful through it all. 

“So, tell me, why are you frightened?”

“Because this place is – it scares me - it's _creepy_.”

Mrs Hudson sat down on a chair across from you and placed her finger on her lips as if to silence you.

“One thing you need to learn is that a house this old is not just a house. It is a living thing, with a soul and a certain awareness. So, choose your words wisely when you speak of this place. Don't want to make enemies right away, do you?”

Now _that_ was a creepy thing to say.

“What do you mean, it's alive?”

“It has seen a lot of things over the years. Sometimes when you sit by the fire on quiet night, you can hear it. A creak here, a moan there. It has a heavy heart, this poor house. Seen a lot of terrible things.” Her expression went blank. “Terrible, terrible things.”

_Ok. uh. It wasn't getting any better._

Just as quick as her expression had faltered, the smile returned to her face and she patted your hand.

“Do not worry yourself, darling. Just try and strike up a friendship with this place and you will love it.”

“Is it haunted?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, _haunted_. You know, poltergeists, ghosts floating about, weird noises in the middle of the night.”

Mrs Hudson shook her head and laughed, waving you off.

“Darling! Ghosts floating about!" She laughed loudly. "That is the funniest thing I've heard in a while. We certainly have no _floating_ ghosts here." She put a hand on her chest to calm down and chuckled softly. “You've been watching too many movies, my dear.”

“I'm sorry, I'm just scared of ghosts.”

“Well, maybe if you lock your door and recite the Lord's Prayer five times, then burn some frankincense and put a few drops of camphor oil on your door step – yes, that could work." She shook her head. "But thinking of it, you know what ghosts are like. They walk through walls and squeeze through key holes."

You paled.

“Darling, I'm kidding. Are you really that afraid? No-one will bother you here, as long as you stick to the rules and do your job.”

She offered you a warm smile and you nodded.

What a quirky woman, but at least she had lightened your heart a little.

After you finished your hot chocolate, Mrs Hudson showed you to your room which was on the second floor. Velvet curtains were draped above the windows, the furniture was made of dark wood, there was a chaise lounge of green velvet in a corner and the bed that stood in the centre of the room had a canopy made of wood with intricate carvings. This would have been a rather amazing room had it been decorated in light colours, but like this, you weren't sure if you would be able to sleep at all.

Rosy and Gerty, who were twins as you discovered, and were, you estimated about sixteen years of age, appeared from one of the upper floors to say hello to you. You took an immediate liking to their lightness. The cheerfulness they had as they whirled through the rooms on your floor, showing you around, lifted your spirits. The twins' rooms lay a level lower and they were kind enough to explain the workings of the shower in your bathroom and how to get hot water from the tap.

_Wow. It was all very basic accommodation._

And as you sank into the warm bath water twenty minutes later, you tried to let your mind become calm.

It was going to be ok. It was only for three months and you needed the money.

You'd be fine.

 

***

By the time dinner was finished and you had cleaned up – which wasn't your job, but you did it because you enjoyed the company and you dreaded going back to your room now that it was dark outside - it was around 10pm. Rosy and Gerty settled by the fire to read while Mrs Hudson put on some tea and shared some stories with you. Funny ones you noticed. She was obviously attempting to make you feel comfortable.

When you finally curled up in your bed, you could not sleep. Wide eyed, you watched the dancing shadows that the dying fire place cast onto the wooden decorations of the ceiling.

_There weren't many things you were afraid of._

_But ever since you were a child you had been afraid of ghosts._

_An irrational fear that had never loosened its_ _grip on you._

You listened into the silence.

There was a soft creak. A moan.

Like Mrs Hudson had said, it was as if the house was sighing.

But that was nothing out of the ordinary for an old house.

You briefly considered putting your earphones in and listening to some music, but that terrified you even more, since you would not be able to hear what was going on around you.

Eventually you fell asleep - probably from exhaustion - and you imagined the distant sound of someone playing the piano.

A loud wailing ripped you right back from the shore of sleep and you felt the drizzle of adrenaline running through your body like an electric current.

You lay frozen.

Eyes wide open.

Listening into the darkness.

Nothing happened for a while.

Then it came again. A loud wailing, followed by a rushing noise that sounded like air being sucked in. As if someone was breathing.

Your trembling hand reached for your light and turned it on.

Your heart beating wildly.

Nothing was in your room. Nobody was there. Everything was fine.

The fire flickered in the fire place and you threw the duvet back and hopped out of bed to throw a few more pieces of wood into the flames to feed them.

The fire made you feel better. Light made you feel better.

Nevertheless, you jumped when the wailing came again.

You curled up in a blanket and settled by the fire place, eyes trained on the flames, all other lights in the room were switched on too – which weren't many, since there were hardly any electrical wires in the house, _because of the fire hazard_ , Mrs Hudson had explained to you earlier.

The wailing came again, only softer now.

You hugged your knees and started rocking back and forth.

“It is merely the wind.” A soft voice said.

_Jesusmaryandjoseph._

You thought you'd scream, but you merely flinched, your throat too tight to produce any sound.  You hid your face in the blanket.

_It wasn't real. It wasn't real. There was no one in the room with you. You're just imagining this. It's not real. Not real._

“I apologise." The voice said again. It was clearly male. And it was soft like velvet. And soothing. "I did not mean to startle you. But the noise, it's the East wind. When it picks up, the chimney's form a vacuum and with the windows all shuttered up, the house … well, the house breathes. Sounds ghastly, but it is _merely_ the wind, so there is nothing to fear.”

You carefully raised your head. Just far enough so you could squint your eyes open and glance over into the direction the voice had come from.

There was a man, crouched down a short distance away form you. Dark, wavy hair framed a handsome face with delicate features, high cheekbones and light coloured, vivid eyes.

You swallowed.

He wasn't quite what you expected a ghost to look like.

You took a deep breath and decided that it was ok to relax a little. It was highly unlikely that this man was a ghost.

“How - how did you get in here?”

“It had slipped my mind that we had a guest coming, and when I saw the glow of fire light under the door, I thought someone must have left it burning by accident.”

You kept watching him as he spoke. You could not help but notice that he was quite beautiful. And there was something about him, a mysterious air, something you could not grasp.

“So, you do not usually appear in people's rooms out of nowhere, do you? Like a ghost?”

You tried to sound relaxed and make light of the whole situation.

His eyes widened a little.

“What makes you say that?”

You laughed softly.

"Don't look so shocked. I don't mind you came into my room and apart from that, you don't look like a ghost to me.”

His features softened into a smile.

A very charming smile you had to give him that.

“I do not usually burst into people's rooms _uninvited_. But I could - see that you were afraid. As I said, it is merely the wind there is nothing to fear, really.”

He dipped his head a little, cocking it to its side to search your eyes and all of a sudden you felt like an idiot.

You rubbed one hand over your forehead.

“Gosh, I'm sorry, I'm behaving like a child. Totally irrational. It's just my silly fear.”

“Fear is not something silly, it often lets us stay away from danger.”

“But my fear is irrational.”

“And what is it, you fear, may I ask?”

You shook your head.

“It's just silly.”

“I promise I will not laugh, no matter how silly it is.”

You looked at him, searching those eyes.

Were they blue? Or grey? It was hard to tell in the warm glow of the firelight.

“I – I'm afraid of ghosts.”

“Oh.” He blinked and then he quickly averted his gaze.

He was probably trying not to laugh at you.

_God, you'd made a complete fool of yourself._

_Moreover, you had made a fool of yourself in front of a handsome man, who was in your bedroom in the middle of the night._

_Wait_...

“Are you – _Thomas_?”

He nodded, but kept his gaze in the flames.

“I'm sorry, I'm such a child. But I'm really glad that you live here and thank you for coming in to look after me. I feel a lot better now.”

“I am - pleased to hear that.”

He stated, the warmth seemed to have left his voice though, as he rose to his feet.

“Well, I guess I don't have to be afraid with you around.”

“No. No, certainly - not.”

You wondered what had brought on the sudden change in his demeanour.

“You promised no to laugh at me.”

“And I didn't.”

“No, but – you are different. Was it anything I said?”

He huffed and laughed – at least that was what it sounded like.

“It is not your fault, do not concern yourself. It is merely that I am – I am tired of ... well, you, you should probably get some sleep.”

You nodded.

“Thank you, Thomas. I feel a lot safer knowing you're around.”

He gave a soft sort of snort, before he turned to leave.

“I will make sure that no more _ghosts_ will visit you tonight, Miss.”

“Y/N.”

“Miss Y/N.”

"No, just Y/N. Please."

You thought you saw the flicker of a smile creep over his face before he turned away and left.

“Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Thomas.”

You went to close the door behind him, suddenly feeling very tired.

All the excitement took its tall on your nervous system.

As you crawled into the bed, you listened to the howling wind, and the house breathing. The mere knowledge of Thomas living two levels above you, under the same roof, made you feel safe and protected.

You sighed.

It was pathetic how easily you were manipulated by a handsome man.

You grinned.

Maybe this place was not as bad after all.

You fell asleep with a smile on your lips, looking forward to tomorrow, when you would hopefully find some time to sneak up to the top floor.

 

 

 


	2. I put a spell on you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos <3
> 
> First day ...

Considering all the things that could have happened it was a relief that you survived your first night in Dracula's castle - ok, let's stick to the facts here and don't exaggerate - Dracula's  _Hunting Lodge_ without any more incidents.

After Thomas had left, you had actually dozed off for a few hours, before your sleep came to an abrupt end, due to something jumping onto your bed and you jumping out of your skin with a loud squeal. 

The large black cat that had settled on your bed gave you an unappreciative cat scowl at the noise, flicked its ears and stretched, before it moved up the bed to sit down and stare at you. Due to the fright you had retreated back towards the headboard, huddling there now in a seated position pressing your body against the intricately carved piece of wood. The dark devil with the green eyes stared at you as if he thought you'd clearly lost your mind. If cats were able to raise their eyebrows, you were sure that this one would have done so right now.

"Hi."

The tip of the cat's tail twitched.

Since it did not do anything else, you carefully reached out your hand. You loved cats, but in this environment you were fully prepared for the small carnivore to bounce and bite and scratch rather than - nuzzle its head affectionately against your palm.

Which it did. 

You let go of a breath you hadn't noticed you were holding.

_Paranoid. You were being totally paranoid._

"Hey, what's your name?"

The cat started purring and rubbed itself against your body. You slid back into a horizontal position, which it approved off as it threw itself on its side then rolled on its back, legs up in the air so that you could ruffle the soft fur on its belly.

"Well, you're friendly, aren't you? And you're a boy."

You smirked.

“A naughty boy.”

He blinked up at you with half lidded green eyes full of satisfaction and it made you laugh softly.

It was odd, how this place made you so afraid, while at the same time all its inhabitants seemed to be extraordinarily friendly and cheerful characters. Mrs Hudson, the twins, Thomas, and the cat.

_Thomas._

You closed your eyes and let his face float to the surface of your mind.

There was something about him. He was handsome, sure, but there was something else about him that drew you to him. 

You sighed. 

_Girl, you're pathetic._

It was quite likely the fact that you had been scared shitless and he had comforted you with his words. He was basically your knight in shining armour. 

_Of course you would feel attracted to him._

Your fingers sank into the soft fur. The cat purred loudly, then turn onto his side and snuggled up against you to take a nap.

You closed your eyes and kept dosing until your alarm finally went off.

When you moved, he stretched, hooking one of his claws possessively into the fabric of your night gown as though to tell you that it definitely  _wasn't_  time to leave the bed yet. 

You chuckled and extracted yourself from his embrace which earned you a sulky scowl before he moved to roll up on your pillow.

It took a while of fiddling to get some hot water flowing but you managed, and after your shower you wrapped up in a woolly jumper, jeans and thick socks to brave the day. 

Due to the fire going most of the night, your room was much warmer than the rest of the house and you shivered a little when you stepped out onto the landing. You'd probably need to wear your winter boots inside to keep warm. 

The house did not look so bad during daytime. You sauntered downstairs into the kitchen, where Mrs Hudson greeted you with a cheerful "Good Morning, dear. Did you sleep well? No ghosts?"

You shook your head. Her rather light and fearless attitude towards ghosts made you smile.

"No ghosts. Especially not the  _floating_  kind." You joked and she winked at you.

"Told you we don't have those here, didn't I?"

"But a furry black monster with green eyes attacked me in the early hours of the morning."

She sniggered.

"Ah, I should have warned you that Loki loves to sneak into people's beds."

"Lucky? Is that his name?"

"It's L-ow-kee."

"Loki?"

"Norse god of mischief and lies. A most befitting name for our resident cat as you will discover."

"Mischief and lies? He was friendly though."

"Yes, because you're a pretty girl. Loki is _devoted_ to pretty girls."

You laughed. 

"He's a cat, not a guy."

"Oh, but he's very selective in who he adores. Considering how finicky, fussy and fastidious he is, he  _should_  be a guy -  _not_  a cat."

It made you laugh out loud.

Mrs Hudson came over and placed a bowl of steaming porridge in front of you, as well as some stewed fruit, cream and maple sirup.

"On Sunday's we have big breakfasts, but during the week we stick to simple. Your taste buds will get used to it."

You dipped your spoon into the gooey oatmeal and tried a little bit. 

It tasted surprisingly nice, and after you added the other ingredients it was a great breakfast.

“I'll have no problem getting used to this.”

***

You spent all morning following Mrs Hudson around the house. She introduced you to your tasks, which were mainly dusting, polishing and vacuum cleaning – the rooms on the ground floor up to the second floor. You were relieved that there was such a thing as a vacuum cleaner here, as everything else was rather last century - and not the twentieth. 

Mrs Hudson showed you through all the rooms, the places with cleaning supplies, the food storage and where the electrical fuses were and how to change them if the need should arise. She showed you where to find extra firewood and told you what to do in case the water pipes froze up.

Being here was like stepping into a different time zone - or rather a different era.

You couldn't just flick a switch and the heating came on, you had to go gather wood and keep feeding the fire during the day to stay warm. Same with cooking. The stove was heated with wood. If you wanted hot food, you needed to fire it up first.

On your way to the firewood storage, you came past what looked like an iron elevator and you stopped to look at it.

"Where does this go?"

"To the basement, and all the way up to the attic."

You looked at her.

"And you've showed me everything apart from those two places, haven't you?"

"Because those are the two areas that do not concern you. You are responsible for the rest of the house, there is no need for you to go there."

"What's - _down_ there?"

Mrs Hudson gave you a narrow eyed look.

"You are a curious one, aren't you?"

"Merely asking."

"The original clay vats."

"Clay vats?"

"The house is built on a field of red clay, which was harvested here a long time ago. The basement was sealed off because the ground is unstable. The whole house was sinking apparently and the owners put steel beams underneath it to stabilise the structure."

"Wow … What about the attic? Isn't that were Thomas lives?"

She cocked an eyebrow. 

"You have met him, haven't you?"

"Last night. I was – I was scared and he made me feel better."

Mrs Hudson smiled.

"Yes, he's good at that. He does usually prefer not to be disturbed, so don't go up there, he will come down if he needs anything."

You nodded. 

Not exactly what you wanted to hear.

"What does he do? I mean – what does he work?"

"He studies."

"Really? A student? What does he study?"

"Technical design or something like that. He's a quiet boy and likes the solitude."

“He's nice.”

Mrs Hudson shook her head and gave you a little smile.

“Now, don't get your hopes up, dear. He's a married man.”

_Ok, well, there we go._

She patted your arm.

"The world would be a better place if handsome men like Thomas weren't married, I know, but you better get him out of your head."

"Where is his wife?"

"Gone away for the winter. Can't handle - the climate."

There was something in Mrs Hudson's voice that told you she was either not comfortable talking about this or she was not telling you the whole truth.

You decided to drop the subject - for now.

"Ok, so I won't go down to the basement and up to the attic, unless I need something? If you're away, will Thomas be here or will I be all alone?"

"He's always here, darling. But don't disturb him, unless it's necessary, even if you enjoy his company. It wouldn't do any good."

You nodded.

_What the hell did she mean by that?_

"I think it's time for a cuppa, my dear."

"Already?"

"We're in England, love. We need regular tea breaks."

You chuckled.

***

When you reached the topmost landing, you glanced around trying to decide if you should go left or right, before you started walking down the open corridor to your right. There were a few doors leading off it, but of course you had no idea which one to knock on.

Before you could make up your mind, one of them opened a little with a creak.

While you should have been scared, you actually kept walking towards it.

When you approached, it opened a little wider. 

_Ok, that was spooky._

And yet, you placed your hand on the polished wood to push it open.

Thomas voice from behind you, startled you and you flinched.

"What are you doing up here?"

You spun around to find him standing a few feet away on the landing where you had just come from, glowering at you, and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks for being caught red-handed.

"Did Mrs Hudson not tell you that you are not supposed to come up here?"

His tone of voice was cool, it had nothing of the soft quality from last night.

Maybe you had been wrong about him after all. You romanticised him, because he had saved you.

After all, he was a married man.

"I – uh. She did tell me.” You averted your eyes. “I just wanted to say thank you. For last night."

When your gaze wandered back to him, Thomas seemed to relax a little, his eyes growing softer. 

"Of course."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and heaved a sigh.

"It is fine. Now that you thanked me, you can go back downstairs."

_Uh. Ok, well he evidently wasn't the nice guy from last night._

"She did say that you didn't want to be disturbed, so I'm - I'm really sorry."

You nodded and made your way back to the landing to go downstairs. Thomas stepped aside so that you could walk past him. 

"What have you got there?"

You halted.

His demeanour had unsettled you and you had forgotten about the gift you intended to give him, he must have noticed the small packet in your hand when you walked past.

"It's a gift."

He looked confused.

"For - _me_?"

"Just something small, nothing really. Swiss chocolates that I bought at the airport on the way here."

_Well, that really seemed to throw him off._

"You - you came up her to bring me a gift?"

_It wasn't that out of the ordinary to give gifts to people, was it?_

"I initially bought a box for Mrs Hudson, but because I wasn't aware that there were so many people in this house, the gifts ended up smaller in size. Because I had to divide Mrs Hudson's box of chocolate between the four of you."

You shrugged your shoulders.

"And you were so kind to me last night. I really wanted to give you something."

He did not say anything, just stared at you then at the parcel in your hand. You had used some of your origami paper to wrap it. It was basic, but nice.

When Thomas did not do anything, you stretched out your hand to offer it to him, but he took a step back, apparently shocked or even appalled by the gesture.

_It stung._

_You hadn't expected him to squeal with delight and hug and kiss you, but this was - kind of mean._

You bit your lip and withdrew your hand. 

"Well, then, I might see you downstairs sometime."

You turned and quickly descended the stairs.

"Wait!"

You had already reached the landing on the next floor down, and turned around, expecting to see him still standing a level higher. You gasped in surprise to find him only a couple of steps behind you.

_Crikey, you hadn't heard him come after you._

"My apologies, I did not mean to be rude. It is merely that I am not accustomed to receiving gifts, so it came as a surprise. I did not mean to hurt your feelings by rejecting it."

He reached out his hand and you hesitantly placed the small parcel inside it.

It didn't escape you how quickly he drew his hand back.

"Thank you, Y/N."

"You're welcome, Thomas. And - don't worry, I'm not going to disturb you again."

_That was awkward._

You turned and walked down the stairs. At the bottom, you tilted your head up briefly to see Thomas still standing in the same spot, staring at the small parcel in his hand.

_Not used to anyone giving him gifts?_

_Was his wife never giving him anything? Or his family?_

You would have loved to ask him, but it seemed that he was not overly interested in your company.

_Don't disturb him, unless it's necessary, even if you enjoy his company. It wouldn't do any good._

Yes, maybe it was better this way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Crimson Peak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Week one...
> 
> and yes, there are some hidden quotes :)

It was later that afternoon, after you had helped Mrs Hudson clean and polish the the large dining table and chairs and bring some more fire wood inside to store under the stair case, that you returned to your room to grab a book and find a quiet spot to read.

You chuckled at the thought. 

A _quiet_ spot. 

You were inside a huge, eerily _quiet_ house. It wouldn't be hard to find a spot to read here.

Earlier, on your tour of the house this morning you had discovered a room with a cosy looking daybed built into a bay window, so you threw a blanket over your shoulders and ascended the stairs to the next floor to seek it out. It was still light outside and since most of the house was dark, even during the day, you thought it would be nice to read in daylight.

You had three hours until you would help Mrs Hudson with preparing dinner and finally started to feel more relaxed.

Well, _slightly_ more relaxed.

Still a long way away from feeling at home, but it was only your first day, so that gave you some hope.

An ominous feeling settled in the pit of your stomach as you took your seat in the bay window. You just couldn't shake off the sensation of someone watching you.

Which, of course, was _nonsense_.

_Paranoid. You are paranoid, girl._

There was no one in the room.

Apart from you.

You opened the book and started reading. It was a novel you had bought to at JFK airport to while away your time on the flight. Ironically it was a tragic romance, set in a lonely homestead in the English countryside - a story of betrayal, murder and unrequited love.

_I mean, what were the chances to pick such a story, and then arrive in a place that seemed like the perfect setting for all of this?_

The creak of the door startled you.

You instinctively pulled your legs up when the door opened slowly. Your entire body tensed, as you focused your gaze on the door.  

A pair of green eyes appeared at the bottom of the door, looking at you innocently. You sighed with relief. 

"Loki." You breathed.

The cat's tail went straight up at the mention of his name and he sauntered over to where you were sitting, taking no time to jump up onto your lap and claim you as his day bed. Loki settled on your lap, gracefully placing his head on his front paws, purring softly. You scratched him behind his ear, and he leaned into your touch. 

A smile appeared on your lips and after he had closed his eyes you opened the book and continued reading.

After a page or two, your eyes started to droop. The jet lag.

Maybe it was safe to take a little nap. Loki was here with you. What could possibly happen if you just closed your eyes for a minute?

_There are no ghosts here._

_There's nothing to fear._

Your head sank against the cold surface of the window. 

It was two hours later when you woke. The temperature had dropped and you shivered despite of the blanket and the black furry heating pad on your lap.

You opened your eyes and rubbed them. Staring into the darkness. The sun had long set and it was pitch black. Outside and in here.

Suddenly you were wide awake, reaching for your phone that you had put on the windowsill beside you.

You hadn't thought of that when you came here, that you would be in the dark once the daylight was gone. 

You froze. Your phone wasn't there. 

_Nonono. That was impossible._

Then your fingers bumped against it and you heaved a sigh of relief. 

_Girl, pull yourself together._

Then several things happened at once.

You swiped your finger over the screen to turn on your flash light.

In the light beam of your phone you saw a figure standing a few feet away and you screamed. Loki shot up from his sleep with a loud hiss and you dropped your phone. In the attempt to catch it, you sent it flying through the air and it landed in the middle of the room. Flashlight down. The screen of the phone emitting soft light for a few seconds before it went dark. 

Your heart was in your throat, your arms wrapped tightly around Loki, who fortunately did not seem to mind, and you were frozen in fear pressing back against the window. You listened into the darkness.

Loki growled. And you held him tighter.

_Please, please, please, go away._

You stared into the blackness, almost expecting something to appear right in front of your face. 

Whatever you saw. It was not a normal person. 

More like the shadow of someone.

Something. 

_Please. Please. Go away._

Nothing happened. 

Then you heard a noise in the adjacent room, and a few seconds later, when somebody switched on the light, a glimmer of it fell through the gap in the door that Loki had come through. It illumined the room you were in just enough to make out the furniture and the spot where you had seen somebody standing - well, it had been a person, but then, it had not.

Now you could see that the room was empty, there was nobody there. 

_Good god, your imagination was going to drive you insane._

You heard somebody move about in the other room and gathered your courage. 

"H-hello?"

After a moment of silence you heard Thomas' voice. 

"Y/N? Is that you?"

"I'm in here, Thomas."

The door opened all the way, allowing in more light as the silhouette of the raven-haired man filled the doorway.

Loki growled and you glanced down at him in surprise. He had his eyes trained on Thomas, tip of his tail twitching. Thomas seemed to return the cat's gaze with narrowed eyes.

"It's just Thomas, Loki."

The cat rubbed his head against your palm when you touched him. You loosened your hold on him a little. 

"What are you doing here, in the dark?"

Thomas asked, but when you met his gaze he averted his eyes and you thought he looked guilty. For whatever reason. 

"I fell asleep while I was reading."

You set Loki down on the day bed and placed your feet on the floor. He meowed softly in protest, but you stood and first collected your book, which must have slipped out of your hands when you were sleeping, before you retrieved your phone that was lying in the middle of the room. You turned off the flashlight.

When you looked up, Thomas was watching you. For a moment, the two of you just stood there, looking at each other and his mouth twitched into a shy smile.

You noticed he was holding a book in his hand.

Then both of you spoke at the same time.

"What are you reading?" You asked with one voice.

You chuckled. He laughed softly. 

"It is nice to see that people still read books. Paper has a subtle quality that cannot compare to those digital devices you use."

"I know, I like to feel the paper." You ran your hands over the cover. "I hope that whatever you're reading is a little more uplifting than this." You held the book up. "This is a dreadful story."

"Mine is - not what I would call uplifting either." 

"Maybe we both have dreadful taste when it comes to books?"

He laughed again. You liked his laugh. It was soft and made you feel warm. 

"I don't read this book because I like it. More - out of _sentiment_."

He turned around and sauntered back into the other room. 

"Are you not going to come out into the light, Miss Y/N?"

"I'm coming."

You picked up Loki and put him half over your shoulder, so that you had one of your hands free to collect the blanket and followed Thomas. 

Loki found this new position rather agreeable since he nuzzled your neck.

A smile flitted over Thomas face when you appeared, probably due to the fact that you were trying to balance a cat, a blanket and your book in your arms.

"Do not spoil him. There is no need to carry him."

He nodded at Loki, who merely flicked one of his ears back as if to tune him out, before he started licking your ear. 

"Loki!" you laughed and he innocently snuggled up against you, purring loudly.

Thomas huffed.

He walked you to your room but stopped in the door when you walked inside. 

"Did you like the chocolates?"

"They were delicious, thank you."

"I don't mean to be nosy, but what did you mean with you aren't used to receiving gifts?"

He stepped into your room and walked over to the window, placing the book in his hand on a side table and began to pull the curtains shut. 

"Merely that I - I do not receive many gifts."

"Not even from your family? Mrs Hudson said that you are married. Does your wife never give you any gifts?"

He stood with his back to yours, but you noticed him stiffen, his hands halting their movement.

"I am not - it's complicated."

When he turned around his gaze did not met yours.

"I better go back to my work."

He muttered and before you could hold him back, he was gone.

You frowned and put Loki down on your bed, his green eyes were trained on the door Thomas had disappeared through. 

"Correct me, if I'm wrong, but he is a bit odd, isn't he?"

You looked at Loki and he blinked at you. 

You sighed.

"I better go and help with dinner."

The book Thomas had left on the side table caught your eye as you walked past it. 

_I don't read this book because I like it. More - out of sentiment._

You picked it up, flipping it around to see the cover.

"Wuthering Heights."

Your forehead creased. 

Such a despondent story. Full of pain and madness.

Really? Reading this out of _sentiment_?

You ascended the stairs to the attic and placed the book on the landing, no matter how much you wanted to hand it to him, talk to him again, Thomas had asked you not to come up here again and you respected that.

So you turned around and quickly ran downstairs before you could change your mind. 

 

 ***

 

The second night passed without incidents, so did the one after that, and over the next week you started to find a routine in your life. 

You got up early, went for a run, came back to light the fires, if Mrs Hudson or the twins had not done so yet, and, After a hot shower and breakfast, you went to complete your morning tasks. Had a cup of tea with Mrs Hudson around eleven o'clock before you retreated to your room until lunch. You spent most afternoons cleaning and dusting the pictures in the halls, polishing furniture and checking the fires. In the early evening you helped prepare dinner and afterwards the four of you settled in the lounge to read, play board games or simply talk. 

"I haven't seen a piano anywhere."

You said one evening, sipping on your hot chocolate, Mrs Hudson had mastered the art of making hot chocolate, and she looked at you over her glasses.

"A piano?"

"I can hear someone play it. Faintly, every night."

"You have a more vivid imagination than I realised, my dear."

"That's what I thought at first, but then, last night I was lying awake and I could definitely hear someone play. It's always the same melody."

Mrs Hudson frowned slightly. She opened her mouth to say something, when Gerty fell in.

"It's my fault." The girl said and both of you looked at her. She was lying on her tummy one of the furs in front of the fire place, reading. When she felt your eyes on her, she looked up and shrugged.

"I have a digital piano."

"Oh, I didn't see it when you showed me your room."

"Keep it under my bed. Sorry, if my tinkling has been disturbing you."

You shook your head.

"No, not at all. I am just concerned about your lack of sleep. Last night it was two in the morning."

"Yeah, I often can't sleep." She shrugged again and went back to reading her book.

You took another sip of your chocolate.

"There you go, I never knew about that." Mrs Hudson said. "But then, my hearing is not that good anymore either, and I have a very deep sleep."

She offered you a warm smile that you returned. 

"Now, tomorrow, I would like you to start on the library. I haven't dusted in there for a while. All the books need to come off the shelves to be cleaned and the shelves themselves have to be polished before the books go back in. It is a rather tedious job and will probably take most of this and next week. Maybe you can focus on that in the afternoons."

You nodded. 

"I like books. Although not so much when they're dusty." You smiled.

"Oh, they will be. But you can use the vacuum cleaner with the brush nozzle to clean off the worst. I have an extension cord somewhere, I'll find it for you, dear."

You finished your hot chocolate and rose. 

"I better get an early night then. Sweet dreams to all of you."

"Goodnight, Y/N." The twins replied. 

"Goodnight, sweetheart." Mrs Hudson gazed at you for a moment. "It's been lovely having you around." She added and your heart warmed. 

"Thank you." 

You slept really well that night.

***

For a few more days, everything felt peaceful and you almost entirely forgot that you were in a place that was most certainly haunted, until that one grey afternoon, when you were busy dusting the books in the library. 

As you pulled out a stack of books, they slipped from your hands and landed on the floor with a loud thump, and you quickly squatted down to inspect them, feeling bad about the possibility of having caused any damage.

A piece of newspaper fluttered out of a book with a green and brown cover and you picked it up to put it back, but then decided to unfold it.

_You and your damned curiosity._

It was the front page of the "Cumberland Ledger", the paper yellowed and frail, and your gaze fell on the date. September 1881.

_Wow, that was old._

The print was swirly and it took you a moment to decipher the headline.

_Lady Beatrice Sharpe murdered._

_Ugh. Maybe not the best thing to read in here._

You were about to fold the paper up and put it back, when you froze.

Lady Beatrice Sharpe. You had seen the name. On a plaque underneath a horrid portrait of a rather strict and scary looking woman, in a small room on the first floor.

According to the article, the Lady Sharpe was found murdered in the bathtub of her home. One brutal blow almost split her head in two. At the time of the murder, there was no one else in the house apart from the two children, Lucille and Thomas Sharpe. After questioning by the police, her son, who was twelve at the time was sent to boarding school, while the girl, Lucille was sent to a convent in Switzerland. Really? What about their father? The article closed with the fact that no suspect was ever arrested for the Lady Sharpe's murder.  

By the time you'd finished the article, you had sank down on your knees a disquieting feeling in your gut.  

The fact that left you feeling weak was that the home where Lady Sharpe had been murdered in was none other than Allerdale Hall. 

The very house you were currently in. 

Dusting books in the library. 

Shit.

You read through the article again.

And again.

You started going over the rooms of the house, counting bathrooms and bathtubs.

There were three. Bathtubs.

One of them next to your room.

You felt heat flushing your entire body, as your heart beat picked up and your stomach clenched.

This woman had been murdered. Right here, in this house. In her bathtub. 

Maybe in _your_ bathtub.

It made you feel sick. 

You were suddenly very aware of the eerie silence around you. 

And the fact that Mrs Hudson had gone to the village to stock up supplies and the twins were out for a walk. 

Everything had seemed fine, but now, the peacefulness of the afternoon was supplanted by a suffocating fear twisting in your guts. Trapping you in its merciless grasp, clawing at the sanity of your mind as it filled your imagination with grotesque images. 

_Stop. Stop yourself. Don't let your mind go there._

The sound of a door slamming ripped you out of your stupor.

Maybe the twins were back? 

Hope kindled inside your chest, you tucked the newspaper back between the pages and placed the book on the stack. 

You did not want to be alone right now. 

With as much composure as you could muster, you descended the steps and crossed the living area into the main hall.

The front door was wide open, the icy November wind blowing dead leaves inside.

"Gerty? Rosy?"

There was no answer.

Another door slammed and you jumped.

_The draft. It must be the draft._

You took a deep breath and walked up to the front door to push it shut. At once, the house fell silent.

_Maybe you needed a cup of tea and go to your room._

_Or just go to your room._

_Where was Loki, when you needed him to keep you company?_

You pretended that your nerves weren't completely on edge, and that you couldn't hear the blood pulsing through your veins, and that your breath wasn't short and shallow.

Just a few minutes before life had been fine. Until you read that article.

_It's your fear. You're creating all this in your mind._

You couldn't quite convince yourself, but decided not to run to your room, but to be brave and make yourself a cup of tea first.

But when you stepped into the kitchen, your eyes went wide. 

There, under window, was a large, blood-red stain on the otherwise immaculate wall. 

Your breath hitched and when you turned to run, you almost expected to bump into somebody who had suddenly appeared behind you.

But the path for you was clear. 

As fast as you could you ascended the stairs, taking three steps at a time. 

"Thomas!" You were startled by the sound of your own voice, which was high pitched and suffocated.

"Thomas!" You yelled again as you flew up the stairs to the third floor. "Thomas!" 

You reached the landing to the attic and stopped, panting, holding your hand to your side due to a painful stich, the fingers of your other hand tightened around the banister, your knuckles white. 

"Thomas, please be here." You whispered and one of the doors opened, revealing a concerned looking dark-haired man. 

He said your name, and took a step forward but then halted.

"What is the matter? Did something happen?"

You tried to speak, but your throat was too tight, and you wished you could just run over to him and bury your face in his chest. Feel his arms around you. Be safe.

The thought brought you back to rational reality. 

You were behaving like a child. Panicky, overanxious and hysterical. 

"The kitchen. The wall. In the kitchen." You stammered. 

His brows knitted together. 

"Calm down." The same soothing quality laced his voice that had calmed you on the first night. "Just breathe, and then tell me, what did you see?"

"There is - there is blood. On the wall."

For a moment he stared at you blankly, then he stepped out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him. 

"Let us go and have a look." 

You instinctively shook your head. 

"No!"

"You do not want to go down there?"

You shook your head again. 

But you felt a lot better now that you were in his presence. 

"Can I just stay up here until the others get back?"

"I know that you are terrified, but I can assure you that there is no _blood_ on the wall."

"There is."

His voice was gentle when he spoke and the concern in his voice calmed you. His presence did.

"Trust me. Breathe. Are you feeling a little calmer?"

You nodded.

"Can you listen to me? I mean, not hear me, but listen?"

You frowned, but nodded. He wanted to know if you could focus on whatever he was going to say or if you were still hysterical. 

"I - I'm listening."

"It is November now and the walls have soaked up the moisture from the rain. Did Mrs Hudson tell you about the clay mines underneath the house?"

You nodded.

"There used to be red clay seeping through the kitchen walls when the house was sinking. Residues of it are still there and when the walls get too damp the moisture cause them to stain."

_First the wind, now the clay. He seemed to have a rational explanation for every scary detail of this house._

Still did not change the fact that someone had been murdered here, in a bathtub.

But you nodded, when his eyebrows raised slightly, as if to ask if you understood.

"Why don't we go downstairs and you make yourself a cup of tea, while I inspect the wall?"

You nodded again.

The two of you descended the stairs in silence.

Thomas moved in front of you when you arrived on the ground floor and was the first one to step into the kitchen.

"Ah, yes, just like I thought."

He traced his finger over the stain.

"It looks like blood."

"Wait until it snows. That's when you will find out why they call this Crimson Peak."

"Crimson Peak?"

"That is what they call it. The ore and the red clay leach up from the ground and stain the snow and it turns bright red.  It gives this whole place a rather sinister touch."

He heaved a heavy sigh and his gaze wandered out the window.

"Listen, Thomas. Has - has anyone died in this house?"

Thomas turned to you, his eyes taking on an unreadable look.

"The house is hundreds of years old, I'd venture many souls have come and gone."

"No, I mean. Do you know that someone's been murdered here?" 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... I would be so creeped out by my bathtub!!
> 
> comments are more than welcome :)


	4. Closer to a ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading and liking this story! It's way more popular than I expected it to be!!  
> :)))

"No, I mean. Do you know that someone's been murdered here?"

His eyes lids fluttered ever so slightly as he blinked at you, before he gave a huffed sort of laugh.

"What makes you say this?"

"I found an article. In the library. It talks about the murder of Lady Beatrice Sharpe, who owned this house once."

"My, dear, it is no surprise you are frightened if you indulge in these kind of stories." The tone of his voice was almost patronising, and you felt anger knotting your stomach.

"It's not a story, Thomas. It happened. Right _here_ , in this house." 

"It happened a long time ago."

You searched his eyes, but he averted his own, avoiding your gaze. 

"So, you _do_ know about it?"

"And what does it matter? It will only feed your fear unnecessarily."

"But what if she's still here, Thomas?"

"You better soothe that boundless imagination of yours. You are being childish."

" _Am_ I? The other day, something startled me. I saw someone. A shadow. It seems that all that lives in this house are shadows, creaks and groans."

A look that you would have interpreted as guilt crossed his face.

"You are merely easily scared."

"I can feel something here, Thomas. Something or someone. And this scares me."

You sank down one of the chairs at the kitchen table and put your head in your hands. 

"You think me childish, but I don't know if I can do this. If I can stay here, I mean."

Your whispered name let you glance up at him, and he took a step towards you, looking torn.

"Would it soothe you if you had company then? If you weren't alone while you are doing your chores? Would that make you feel better?"

His eyes were open and clear as he looked at you but there was a hint of something else there - was it, worry, fear?

You blinked up at him. 

"What - what do you mean?"

"I could bring my studies to the library, bear you company while you are pursuing your chores."

"You would do that?"

"It would not cause me much inconvenience."

When you nodded, that shy smile, that you were starting to grow rather fond of, spread on his lips.

"I think - I think I would like that." You said.

"Then, make yourself a cup of tea while I shall go and fetch my books from upstairs."

As he walked past you and out of the kitchen, an icy draft made you shiver. Maybe you really needed to warm up.

Thomas was back before the kettle had boiled and you offered him tea, which he declined politely, instead he stood in the door, a couple of books in his arms, watching you pour the boiling water over your tea. You hit the timer on your phone and turned to face him, now that you felt more relaxed you noticed that he wore the same strange clothes again that he has been wearing every time you had seen him. Thomas seemed to own a plethora of white shirts and black pants. Only that they looked very last century.

"I don't mean to be rude, but you know - you kind of look like you stepped out of _Pirates of the Caribbean_ or something." You gestured at his shirt. "Those sleeves, I mean, and the suspenders?"

He looked down on himself, then gave you a sheepish look.

"It's comfortable?"

"Guess you're right. But I think a blue shirt and black jeans would really suit you. Blue would compliment your eyes."

_You bit your tongue. Had you just basically told him that you had been thinking about him - or rather, imagining him in different clothing?_

You opened the fridge to retrieve some cream.

"I mean, I don't mean to say that you don't look good in what you're wearing, because you do - it's just that -" 

_Oh god, you weren't making this any better, were you?_

"Sorry, I'm babbling."

"Did the fair lady just pay me a compliment?"

 _Did he just call you a fair lady?_ _Damn it, he definitely knew that you liked him._

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks.

"Uh -"

Luckily the timer went off and you quickly turned to retrieve the tea bag from the cup, squeezing it before you discarded it in the bin and proceeded to pour some cream into the dark liquid, watching the cloudy substance for a moment before you were brave enough to face him. 

When you did, he stood much closer than before, his gaze settled on your face, eyes regarding you intently. 

"What is it?"

"You're so different." He said softly.

You raised an eyebrow.

"Different? From whom?"

"From all the other household helps we've had."

You held his gaze as his blue eyes moved back and forth between yours and for a brief moment you thought he would step forward and kiss you - irrational as this thought was - but then he cleared his throat and pulled his eyes away.

"Very well. You have your tea, let us get back to work before Mrs Hudson returns."

You followed him out of the kitchen, trying not to spill your tea as he walked quite fast.

"She's very fond of you." 

"And I of her. I have known Mrs Hudson for a long time."

"What about the twins?"

"They came here to play when they were little."

"Play? _Here_? That's creepy."

He laughed out loud, which was a beautiful sound as you noted.

"They love Harry Potter, pretended this to be Hogwarts."

"Uh, well, with a lot of imagination, I guess."

You reached the library and your newly acquired guard stepped up to the table by the window, placing his books on the polished surface, he gazed out into the gloomy landscape for a moment only before he turned around. 

"That article from the Cumberland Ledger, where did you find it?"

"Over here." You went to pick up the green book and returned to his side as you opened it, producing the piece of yellow paper. You handed it to him.

"What about the book it was in?"

You handed that to him as well and he flicked through the pages, before he returned it to you.

"Are you sure it was this book?"

You merely nodded, and watched as he carefully placed the newspaper cutting into one of his books. 

"Historical references." He said. "And so that you will not be tempted to read it again and encourage your vivid imagination."

He smiled at you, gaze soft. 

You huffed.

"You are making fun of me."

"If only to make you smile."

There was another one of those moments, as you looked into his blue eyes. A moment you lost yourself in the softness of his gaze and the gentleness of his features. As his eyebrow shifted upwards ever so slightly, a faint wrinkle appeared on his forehead while the corners of his mouth twitched upwards.

He held your gaze with such relentless confidence. 

You tore your eyes away.

"I better get back to my tasks."

"Do not allow me to distract you, dear." 

You heard him pull out a chair when you walked back to your stack of books.

As you knelt down and started to wipe their covers with your cloth, you realised that in your panic, you had tucked the newspaper back into the wrong book. The green book it had fallen out of was still there, on the floor. You picked it up and opened it, surprised that it had no print inside, but handwriting. 

It looked like a diary.

You were about to tell Thomas about your discovery, when Mrs Hudson's voice caught your attention.

"Thomas. What a surprise to find you down here."

He glanced up from his book. 

"I am keeping the young lady company, since a horrid red stain that she mistook for the evidence of some kind of a violent crime, left her terrified."

She looked at him for a long time as if to assess his answer then she turned to you.

"I'm sorry, I should have warned you that it can happen."

"It's ok. I was actually more frightened because I found out that somebody was murdered here, that's why Thomas came down here."

"Murdered?"

"The Sharpe incident. I believe that Y/N is afraid that Lady Sharpe's ghost is claiming this house as its abode."

Mrs Hudson looked back and forth between the two of you, then she made a dismissive gesture with her hand and shook her head.

"Ah, don't worry, darling. Lady Sharpe is long gong. And the bathtub got replaced ten years ago, if this is what worries you."

You stared at her. How could she be so nonchalant when it came to ghosts and murders?

"Do ghosts not scare you? Or murders?"

"Darling, I was Sherlock's landlady for a while and I've seen so many things in my life, there's not much that can still shock me. Not even ghosts." She winked at you and offered Thomas a bright smile. 

"Sherlock?"

"Lovely boy. A bit of a smack head, but brilliant."

_Now, smack head and brilliant did not really harmonise were you came from._

"You were his landlady?"

She sighed and smiled.

"In London. I moved to the country, because I needed to have some peace and quiet in my retirement. Would you like to help me bring the shopping in, darling?"

"Sure." 

You rose and followed her, expecting Thomas to come after you as well, but he didn't. The twins arrived just in time to carry in the last items and you returned to your work in the library, where Thomas was bent over his books, reading. 

You did not talk much, but you enjoyed his company. 

***

The following week was the first week you felt relaxed, probably due to the fact that Thomas joined you in the library in the afternoons and you had grown to love his company. The first day you hardly spoke, mostly because you did not mean to disturb his studies, but after the second day it was him who initiated conversation.

He asked so many questions, you thought he seemed starved for any kind of information about the world outside of Allerdale Hall. He behaved as though he had not left this house in years. You had to admit, you relished the attention, and the company.

When you ascended the stairs to the library on the third day, Thomas had already settled in his usual place, but when he looked up to greet you, you gasped.

His smile fell. 

"What is it? You look pale. Did something frighten you again?"

He rose to his feet, a concerned look on his face, then he seemed to notice what you were staring at. 

"Do my new garments not please you?"

He opened his arms to give you a better look at the blue shirt and the black jeans he was wearing. 

You felt yourself lost for words.

He looked - _good_. No, _better_ than good.

The blue of the shirt really enhanced the colour of his eyes and as he stood there with a look on his face that was clearly amused and yet somewhat charmed by your reaction, you felt a bunch of butterflies flutter in your stomach. 

_He's married._

You reminded yourself. 

Then why in god's name would he actually follow your suggestion and show up in the clothes _you_ had recommended?

He clearly had ambiguous intentions.

_He's married._

Maybe he wasn't quite as innocent as you thought he was.

_He's married, darling, get a grip._

You cleared your throat. Embarrassingly, it took way too long for any words to dribble out of your mouth. 

"Looks nice. I knew the blue would enhance your eyes."

You muttered, quickly turned away and marched off to the bookshelf you had abandoned last night half way through polishing it. 

"I thought it would please you to see me in the colours you suggested."

His voice was right behind you and you flinched.

_How did he always manage to sneak up on you?_

"You did this for _me_?"

"I hoped that it would lift your spirits on a dull and grey day as today."

"The days are always dull and grey here."

You knew that it came out far too brusquely, but you couldn't help it. He was married, and he was obviously flirting with you. You did not wish to encourage him.

"Have I offended you unwittingly?"

"What about your _wife_ , Thomas?" You blurted out.

"My - ?" He broke off and fell quiet.

"Mrs Hudson told me that you are married."

There was a long pause before he spoke, when he did, his voice was frail.

"My wife - has left. A while ago. Mrs Hudson, she merely tries to protect me."

All amusement had left his tone and when you turned to look at him, he had retreated to the desk as quietly as he had appeared behind you.

"I'm sorry, Thomas, I didn't know."

He shook his head and smiled at you, although it did not reach his eyes.

"Never mind. You are a good person, maybe for the best."

_Maybe for the best - what?_

Thomas leaned back over his books and you felt terrible. Firstly, for accusing him of flirting with and reprimanding him for it, secondly, for reminding him of the loss of his wife.

It was clearly causing him pain. 

He kept his nose in his books and did not speak for the rest of the afternoon. He left a little earlier than usual to return to his room, leaving behind only a dull ache in your chest.

 

 

 

Thomas in blue and black:

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! :)


	5. Down the rabbit hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas seems to be a very lonely person - desperate for company - and then there is the green diary that draws unwanted attention in the middle of the night...
> 
> I put on Frank Sinatra's 'Strangers in the Night' while writing this. ;)
> 
>  

You were relieved to see that Thomas was already there the next day. This time in a light blue shirt and black jeans, nose buried in his books and scribbling notes into a notebook. 

"Thomas." He looked up, the skin around his eyes crinkling and his blue eyes sparkling as he offered you a smile.

"Look, I'm really sorry. I did not mean to - I mean, I'm sorry that I said something about your wife yesterday."

"And I must apologise to have given you the wrong impression. I was merely following your suggestions, I swear, without having any ambiguous intentions."

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. 

_Well, you would not have minded, really._

"That's - that's ok. I'm sorry - I thought that."

You stammered and caught the hint of a smile on his face as he turned his attention back to the book, and you stood watching him for a while.

"Thomas, can I ask you something?"

He looked up at you and put his pen down, leaning back in his chair to give you his full attention.

"Take the liberty to ask anything you like."

"Do you live here? I mean, Mrs Hudson is the housekeeper and the twins are helping her, but do you - I mean, who is the owner of Allerdale Hall?"

_God, you weren't really the most eloquent when it came to expressing yourself._

Maybe it was because he made you a little nervous. In a good way.

"I am." 

"You?"

"Well, technically it is my company that owns it."

"You - you have a company? Mrs Hudson said you're a student."

He shrugged.

"I guess, I am. After a while the existence in this place gets dull, so I am studying to learn. I have a lot of time on my hands."

"I meant, she made it sound like you were still at university."

He laughed his soft laugh that showed his perfect teeth, and made his eyes glow with warmth.

"Mrs Hudson. She knows that I prefer to be left alone."

_Oh. Right._

"What - what kind of company do you have?"

"It's a family business. Started out with small machinery and technical items, then we sold the original company and now we are mainly doing web design. The company basically runs itself."

"So, it is - I mean, is it doing well?"

"Well enough to keep the house in order and pay everyone."

"I see."

So, here was this obviously rich, handsome guy, who owned a huge creepy house in the middle of nowhere in Northern England and only lived here with a housekeeper and two household helpers - which was kind of spooky in its own right.

_You had not really expected that. But then - what had you expected?_

"Did you live here with your wife?"

The question slipped out before you were able to catch it, and you quickly opened your mouth to apologise, but Thomas smiled and shook his head in a gesture of letting you know that your question was entirely valid and fine to ask.

"We lived here briefly, before she left me, but that ... has been a while."

You looked at him, and then your mind started connecting pieces. The paranoid part of your mind, that was. 

The job offer had asked for a housekeeping help over the winter months. A student or free-lance worker, single, female with American citizenship. Which all seemed normal and correct as those things were required to apply with the job agency that had given you the offer. You had not thought twice about it.

But now, it felt like part of a movie.

And it was not a beautiful romance with a happy ending. 

_If this guy was the owner of the house, owner of the company, wouldn't he have also been the one putting out the job offer?_

So, why was he paying a large amount of money to get a single, American woman to help around the house? His house? During the lonely winter months? He could have just hired anyone from around here - or England, couldn't he?

_Oh god, what if he was some crazy psychopath?_

"I can clearly see that you are bothered by something, care to tell me what is on your mind?"

"Did you - was it you who extended the job offer with the New York agency?"

"It was."

"Why - why didn't you just hire someone from around here to help with the house? Why were you looking for an American? A single woman on top of it?"

He stared at you for a moment, frowning slightly as if he was having a hard time following your thoughts.

Which was probably the case.

"I mean. Are you some kind of psychopathic serial killer or something?" 

_Oops. That just slipped out before you could stop it._

An expression of shock washed over his face, leaving the pale skin even paler and he cleared his throat, averting his gaze from your eyes for a moment, before it came back to find yours. 

His blue eyes searched yours and you could see the hurt in them. 

_And you felt a little sheepish for accusing him._

"I have no cruel or otherwise devilish intentions, if that is what troubles your thoughts. I merely needed - a distraction."

"What?"

_What the hell did he mean by that?_

Thomas sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"When you reside in a place for as long as I have here, it begins to drain you."

"Why don't you move away then?" 

"It is a rather complicated situation. I have a condition that does not allow me to travel."

"Oh. Are you sick?" 

There was a little pang in your heart at the thought.

"Nothing that should trouble you." 

"Why - why were you looking for an American? The job offer specifically asked for a female _American_ "

Thomas heaved a sigh.

"Call it sentiment. I wished to experience the American spirit again. When I was still able to travel, and I first came to America, my heart was brimming with a sense of adventure. I found warmth and friendship there. I admire the sense of freedom your people has."

"So you paid a huge amount of money just to -"

"To have someone to talk to, yes, I guess so."

His answer stunned you and you stared at him for a moment.

_Maybe he wasn't a psychopath after all._

Thinking about it, he had been nothing but kind to you so far and right now, his blue eyes were brimming with vulnerability. Still, you weren't quite sure what to think or feel about this. 

"Why a woman?"

"Because I don't mean to put either Mrs Hudson or the girls in danger by letting a stranger in our house. Woman are more trustworthy."

_Ok, he had a point there._

Part of you felt flattered that you were his breath of fresh air, while another part of you felt hurt because you were merely a distraction. That part of you felt that he had hired you for his entertainment and that did not leave a good feeling behind.

_Ah! That tricky mind of yours._

You also felt a pinch of pity. In the end, it seemed, he was just a lonely, rich guy who was stuck in Dracula's Hunting Lodge.

"Well, I guess it's not the nicest place to be stuck in." 

You only noticed that you had said the words out loud, when he laughed softly.

"You have no idea." He sighed.

"I better get on with my work."

"Was it a mistake to be so open with you?"

"You mean, to tell me that you basically hired me to entertain you?"

It came out a bit harsher than expected and he heaved another sigh.

"I did not expect us to spend this much time together, merely thought that having you in the house would add a tad of brightness to the place. Winters can be very depressing, Especially once the girls and Mrs Hudson leave."

"You could have been honest with me from the beginning."

"I _was_. I thought you would take to your duties and I would stay upstairs. I did not anticipate to keep you company like I do - I did not anticipate you to be so afraid of being here."

"It's a creepy place." You put your hand over your mouth, realising you just said that about his family home. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head. 

"No, you are right. Things have turned out quite different to what I expected as well."

"How?"

"Because I usually avoid people."

"But you hired me to keep you company."

"To feel your presence in the house, maybe talk to you occasionally, ask you about the world out there - but nothing more." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Is that so  bad?"

You shook your head.

"No. But - what about your family? Do they not look after you?"

"Passed away. A while ago."

 _Oh._  

"Oh god, I'm sorry."

To your surprise he sniggered and shook his head. A rather unusual reaction for someone who had just told you that his parents had passed away. But then loneliness could do all sorts of things to you. And Thomas seemed very lonely.

"I don't mean to torture you with my questions."

"Y/N. You would never be able to torture me with your questions."

The smile he offered you was the shy kind, and there was the same expression of guilt colouring his features that you had noticed a few times before. You tried to return a sincere smile and nodded. 

"I still better get back to the books."

This place. This whole situation with Thomas. You weren't quite sure what to make of it.

You had to admit that ever since you arrived here, it felt as though your whole life had been moved slightly out of place. Maybe that was how Alice felt when she followed that white rabbit down the hole. 

Well, luckily, things weren't quite as crazy. 

 _You merely had to deal with murder, the lonely nephew of Dracula and - ghosts. Could be worse really._  

The dark sarcasm of your thoughts was surprisingly comforting. 

At that moment you became aware that you were still standing in the same spot, staring at Thomas. Mesmerised by the depth of his frosty blue eyes. He seemed so soft, and yet there was something about him. Something that gave him an air of mystery. 

Something _dark_. You realised and shivered.

"Why am I not allowed to go up there?"

"Because I like to be left alone."

"No other reasons?"

He sighed. 

"Why don't you come upstairs tomorrow? I can show you around if you wish."

You nodded and were about to turn away from him, when his voice made you stop.

"Friends?" He asked and you were a little surprised by his offer.

Nevertheless, the hopeful and rather innocent expression on his face made you smile.

"Friends." You nodded.

"Thank you, Y/N."

The relief in his voice almost broke your heart. And you felt bad that you had accused him of having any other than innocent intensions towards you. 

*** 

 

You settled in your bed and pulled the diary out from under you pillow. You had been thinking about it over the past days and finally snatched it from the library and when you opened the green book, a sense of excitement flooded your being. 

And a sense of dread.

Although, surprisingly, the sense of excitement prevailed and far outdid the fear of what you would find when you read this. 

_1953 July 17_

_This is my first visit to Allerdale Hall and I am excited like a little girl. I think that after all these years, I will finally get to see a ghost._

You put the book down and glanced at Loki, who was currently curled up on the sheet next to you, watching you with lidded eyes.

"I don't think it's a good idea to read this."

Loki stretched one of his paws, placing it on the back of your hand as if to reassure you.

"Are you encouraging me to go on?"

He purred.

"Do you know what you are getting yourself into? I'll probably end up an unreasonably scared, hysterical mess if I keep reading."

Loki nuzzled the sheet with his head, turning onto his back in the process and ended up looking at you from an upside down position - ears flattened against the sheet, legs lazily up in the air.

It made you laugh and he looked pleased. 

"You just enjoy the attention, don't you?"

You buried your hand in the thick, soft fur of his belly and his eyes closed in delight. 

_With its rich history of murder and the reputation that those lost souls still wander that halls, Allerdale Hall is most likely one of the places where ghosts really exist. According to the villagers here, sightings have been frequent, so I am very excited. And even if I will not see a ghost, I will certainly get boundless inspiration to write another one of my stories, as this house truly is alive with a dark melancholy that stirred my imagination as soon as I walked through the door._

_Mr Sharpe has been kind enough to give me a short tour of the mansion. He is a very busy man, running a successful industrial business together with his associate and I am very grateful for his hospitality. I will spend three days here, and tonight is my first night._

Ok, well that wasn't too bad so far, was it? 

_July 18_

_It was a quiet night. And most of the day was quiet too. So far no sightings of ghosts, so , I took the time to do some research._

_Thomas, that is Mr Sharpe, is lovely. A charming man. He was very helpful answering questions about his family's tragic history, but most of all he was wonderful, charming company._

_This is what I learnt today:_

_The first murder concerning the Sharpe family was the Lady of the house, Lady Beatrice Sharpe, who lived in the house with her two children, Thomas and Lucille, and her husband William. It is unclear what happened to the husband, according to records, he never returned from a journey overseas._

_Waitwait. Wait-a-second._

You read the lines again. 

The _first_ murder?

_Did that mean there was more than one?_

Your fingers were shaking slightly when you turned your gaze back to the page.

_According to Thomas -_

You stopped reading.

_Gees. Which Thomas was this now?_

They all seemed to be called _Thomas_. Didn't British aristocracy have a bit more creativity? 

"They're not very creative when it comes to names, are they, Loki? Even my Thomas is called Thomas."

You muttered. 

 _My_ Thomas?

You smiled at the thought. As creepy as the whole situation was. You couldn't deny that you definitely liked him. 

A lot more than you probably should. 

Loki stretched and when you glanced at him, you would have said that he smirked at you. 

_Good Lord, you were really loosing the plot being in this house._

Alice in wonderland - verily - you had the freaking Cheshire Cat right here in your bed.

"Loki, I'm loosing the plot. I need to sleep."

You closed the book with a snap, startling yourself with the sudden loud noise, and placed it in the drawer of your nightstand before you leaned over to turn off the light. 

Loki snuggled closer, stretching the entire length of his body along your chest as you kind of spooned him, burying your hand in his fur and nuzzling the top of his head with your nose. He purred softly, which made you relax.

He was definitely your comfort-buddy. The faint sound of piano music and Loki's purring lulled you into sleep.

Which did not last for long, as you woke from Loki's low growl shortly after.

There was a noise that sounded like the drawer of your nightstand opening, and, still dazed and sleepy, you instinctively reached towards it in the dark, gasping loudly as your hand hit icy cold air before it painfully hit the wooden edge of the open drawer.

You cried out in pain and shock and shot up. There was a hiss and a growl and something dropped to the floor.

"Loki?"

Despite the fear that was clutching you, you fumbled for the light and found it. 

The lamp on your nightstand dipped the room into a soft, warm glow and offered a picture of perfect peace. Everything was as it should be. Nothing out of place. Nobody else there.

Apart from you and Loki.

Who was presently crouching on the floor, green eyes glowing dangerously, guarding the green book in front of him. 

The diary.

You turned your head to the nightstand, gasping a little when you saw the open drawer. The book you had placed in there now lay about six feet away on the floor. It took a moment to process what had obviously happened. 

Somebody had tried to remove the book from your nightstand. 

And Loki had defended it. 

The troubling thing was that there was a missing parameter in the equation - which was the 'somebody'.

There was nobody else in the room. 

Which meant that an invisible somebody had opened that drawer next to you a mere minute ago, to steal an old diary.

You pulled back the duvet and slipped from your bed to crouch down next to Loki, who stood and pressed his warm body against your thigh. As you reached for the book, you were surprised at how calm your hands were. 

How calm you were - full stop.

Sure, your heart was beating furiously and you still had a fright, but considering what had just happened you should be thoroughly freaked out. 

You were surprisingly calm. 

Maybe it was Loki. You did feel a lot safer with him around. 

The thought that a ghost had tried to get his - or _her_? - hands on that diary chilled you to the bone, but it also left you curious. Most importantly, it did not leave you a quivering mess like it should have.

You picked up the book and rose to your feet. Glancing around the room, you slipped back under the safe cover of your duvet, patting it with your hand to invite Loki to join you, which he did not hesitate to do. 

You stared at the book in your hands for a moment before you opened it.

"Right. I wonder what's written in here that's so important that _somebody_ would try and steal it."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed that!  
> This story is shaping up quite nicely so far I think - don't you?  
> Leaving lots of open questions - like how the hell can a ghost own a company??  
> :)  
> Always happy to hear your comments and suggestions!!


	6. Ghosts from the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader finds out about Allerdale Hall's gruesome past....
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for the encouraging comments and the lovely response to this overall. Thanks for those "Devil Inside" readers who love Thomas and wanted to see more of him - because you inspired this and it's been a fun ride so far!!

_According to Thomas, who has been very helpful in relaying the family history to me, the two children, Lucille and Thomas, were sent off to boarding schools after their mother's murder and returned to their home years later, when they came of age. Lady Lucille Sharpe moved back to Allerdale hall on her eighteenth birthday, her brother Thomas followed her two years later._

_The rather horrifying truth of Lady Beatrice Sharpe's murder was never revealed to the public, and only transpired many years later._

_She was in fact killed by her own children._

You felt a jab in your heart.

_What?_

You read the line again. 

_Jesus Christ._

It was the second time since coming here, you found yourself making the sign of the cross. 

Something twisted in your gut. A murder committed by children. Well, teenagers. As far as you remembered, Lucille was fourteen and Thomas twelve. That made it an even more heinous crime. What on earth would move children to do this?

A shiver ran down your spine as you remembered horrible novels and movies that turned children into mindless, murdering monsters possessed by evil spirits. 

But this wasn't a story. This was real.

You doubted that a loving mother would have suffered that fate. No, these children would have suffered themselves.

You feared that what you would find would be a painful story full of suffering.

Did you really want to keep reading?

 _The story of the Sharpe family is a tragic one. T_ _he children spent most of their childhood locked up in the attic, left to tend to themselves, the only attention afforded to them was a beating with the came whenever their father returned from his business trips or when their mother had too much to drink. It was an unlucky pairing as the Lady Sharpe had been forced into marriage with Lord William Sharpe and took out her hatred on the children._

_Lucille, who was two years older than Thomas, became protective of her little brother and took many of the beatings for him. Thomas in turn became very loyal to his sister. As the only comfort they found, was in one another, an intimate relationship developed between the siblings and they swore to stay together and look after each other for the rest of their lives._

_The discovery of their immoral relationship by their mother, resulted in a severe beating for both of them, but it was when Lady Beatrice threatened to separate them that broke the straw on the camel's back. The girl, Lucille, panicked and managed to escape their attic prison and sneak downstairs to look for a suitable weapon. She slayed Lady Beatrice while her mother took a nap in her bathtub. Lucille was fourteen years of age at the time, Thomas was twelve._

_Thomas, Mr Sharpe, was kind enough to show the exact bathroom and tub to me in which the murder happened. It is situated on the first floor, next to the master bedroom._

_Shoosh!!_

Ok, that was a lot to take in. 

A small, wet drop blossomed on the page of the book in your hand and you wiped it away, only realising then that is was a tear that had dripped from your eyes. You were crying.

Heavens, how grateful you were that you did not live back in those dark times. Locking children up in the attic? Beating them up?

No wonder they would go insane. 

Your heart clenched at the thought that there were many families in this world where this was still happening today.

The only good thing about it all was that the bathtub that Lady Beatrice had been killed in wasn't yours. It was the bathroom on the first floor. The twins'.

You sniffed and wiped your nose. 

Ghosts scared you, but this was a hundred times more frightening and it filled your heart with an unbearable heaviness.

Children committing murder? 

As if to comfort you, Loki moved to snuggle up against your chest, pushing his head under your hand so you scratched him behind his ear. 

He really made you feel safe. You rubbed your eyes and continued reading.

_All this information was apparently uncovered by Thomas Sharpe's last wife, Edith, who was the only survivor of a gruesome series of murders._

So, there really had been _more_ than one murder in the house.

_It was after the siblings had lived in Allerdale Hall for a few years, that their family fortune started dwindling. Around that time, Thomas met the single and wealthy heiress Pamela Upton on a trip to London. With the Lady Pamela seemed utterly charmed by Sir Thomas, he and his sister came up with a devious plan._

_What followed was a decade of clandestine murders, as Sir Thomas married and remarried three times. His wives, all heiresses of large fortunes, were poisoned and killed by him and his sister, before they discarded their bodies in the clay vats underneath the house. Sir Thomas inherited the money, which was quickly used up in trying to keep Allerdale Hall from disintegrating and meeting Lady Lucille's and his own needs._

_While Sir Thomas, who must have carried much guilt inside his dark and twisted heart, attempted to free themselves from poverty by harvesting and selling the valuable red clay instead of taking more lives, his endeavours in developing machinery to harvest the substance kept failing. Money spent on development pushing them further into poverty and the need for money._

_Thomas' wives, who became victims of the Sharpe's deadly schemes, were named Pamela Upton, Margret McDermott, Enola Sciotti, who he met in Milan, Italy 1896._

_Enola was the only one of Thomas' wives who left evidence that he and his sister committed _atrocities_ on his wives, as there were letters and recordings found which state that she was poisoned. _

Oh god.

Oh. My. God.

You closed the diary. Staring into space for a minute or two, trying to digest what you had just read. 

He had poisoned his wives - which meant they had _all_ died here, in Allerdale Hall. All three of them.

Another tear rolled down your cheeks and you wiped it away. 

You weren't even sure why you were crying. As tragic as the story was - it was gruesome. Horrible.

But it wrenched your heart how twisted human beings could become when they were deprived of love and affection. 

You weren't sure what scared you more, the monsters human beings were capable of being or the ghosts that might still be floating around here somewhere.

In the clay vats. Underneath the house. 

You shivered.

"We don't have floating ghosts here."

Mrs Hudson's words made you snigger. Good god. Your mind was a little on the edge at the moment. 

A crackle in the fire place made you flinch. 

Maybe you had just been inside here for too long. Inside the house. Mrs Hudson had said that places came alive and that this house had seen terrible things.

You would have loved to go upstairs and see Thomas. Ask him about this. He of all people would know the history of this place - and you were sure that he would make you feel good about it. Or at least better. Less scared. 

But it was quarter past midnight - much too late to seek out his company. Apart from that, he would scold you for reading this. For getting more frightened. Maybe he would even take the diary off you.

Your fingers tightened around the book.

No, you did not want him to take it away. 

Despite your fear, you wanted to know.

Something told you that there was a reason why you had found this. It practically fell into your lap. 

And there was a reason why "somebody" had attempted to take it from you.

If only you weren't so scared of what the rest of the pages had to say.

Maybe you shouldn't be reading anymore tonight. Just find some sleep. But the thought of closing your eyes with the knowledge that people had been murdered here, wasn't a comforting one.

Great. Here you were, too scared to read and too scared to sleep. 

You slipped out of your bed, earning a disapproving look from Loki who seemed rather comfortable, and knelt down in front of the fireplace to feed the fire some more logs, watching the flames dance as they greedily devoured the pieces of wood. 

You weren't tired yet, quite the opposite actually. Probably due to the adrenaline that had flooded your system after reading all those horrible things.

With a sigh you crawled back under the duvet. Now that you knew they died here, you might as well keep reading. At least now you knew who would show up, if you actually encountered a ghost.

_In the end, Sir Thomas became a victim of his own evil plans because his last wife, a young American named Edith Cushing, captured the cruel man's heart. He attempted to convince his sister Lady Lucille to spare Edith's life but in her jealousy, Lucille killed her beloved brother. Driven mad by her loss, she attacked Edith, who in turn killed her, putting an end to the bloody history of Allerdale Hall._

_Apparently Edith was pregnant with Sir Thomas' child at the time and this is how the Sharpe lineage continued. I shall also go and research the novel that Ms Cushing published a few years later in the early nineteen hundreds._

_So much for the history of this place. I am itching to go down to the basement to see the clay vats and also the attic where Lucille and Thomas used to have their rooms._ _There is a rumour that, late at night one can hear the faint tune of a piano, as Lucille's ghost plays the grande piano in the lounge on the ground floor._ _Of all the ghosts, Lady Lucille would be the most wicked to meet._

_Entry. Same day. Evening._

_I heard it! Thought I was merely imagining it._

_It was just after midnight, so I went downstairs and entered the lounge._

_She is terrifying. In her dark dress with the pinned up hair and her straight posture, how her fingers glide over the keys of the piano. She did not seem to notice me. Did not turn around, but I could feel the cold draft that hit me when she rose and walked past me._

You swallowed.

 _Lucille_.

_I cannot even express how much this means to me. Maybe I will be lucky enough to get a glimpse of Thomas too, I wonder what he will be like._

You shook your head. Good god, the woman who had owned the diary was clearly insane. She had just seen a ghost and found it _exciting_?

A knock on the door nearly made you jump out of your skin. 

"Hello? Y/N?" Mrs Hudson's muffled voice asked from behind the door. 

"Y-yes?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you, love, I realise it's quite late, but there was an emergency, can I come in?"

"Yup, sure."

You closed the book and shoved it under your duvet, then you sat up against the headboard. Mrs Hudson entered, her usual small smile on her face.

She sat down on the edge of your bed.

"I told you I'd have to go into London to look after my sister, yes?"

You nodded. 

"I hoped that it would be over Christmas only, but well, the hospital just called me. She was admitted to hospital tonight, so I will leave first thing tomorrow morning."

_Uh, ok._

"When - when will you be back?"

"I am not sure yet. Hopefully before the twins leave."

"Ok, when is that?"

"Two weeks before Christmas."

Shoot. That was just over two weeks. You felt the colour drain from your face and Mrs Hudson offered you a smile. 

"Now, you know where everything is. Rosy and Gerty can look after most of the house. Rosy's a very good cook, so she is happy to make the meals. In case it snows - which it will, the small snow plow is in the shed and if you need to go into town, just use the SUV. Have you driven one before?"

You shook your head. 

"Are you confident you can do it?"

"If it's a normal car, I'm sure I'll figure it out."

"The keys are in the top kitchen drawer."

You nodded. 

"Thomas is here too, but I would still advise you to stay away from him."

"Why?"

"Because he is - well, he has a condition that makes him unstable."

"You mean, mentally?"

"It's complicated, darling."

"He told me that his wife left him."

"What else did he tell you?"

"Not much. That he owns the house and has a company and that he hired me to have a distraction."

Mrs Hudson perked up at hearing your last words and frowned.

"A distraction?"

You looked at her and realised that she had not been aware of that part of the deal.

"He said he needed someone to talk to. I think he's very lonely."

She narrowed her eyes a little, before she nodded, then she moved up and put her hand on yours. 

"Thomas is a good boy, but it would be unwise to take him as anything else than a friend."

"What do you mean?" You asked sheepishly and she patted your cheek.

"I can see the way you look at him, love."

You blushed and averted your gaze. 

"Just take my advice. Spend time with the girls instead."

Well, you couldn't really control who you fell in love with, could you? And you definitely liked him. 

Mrs Hudson squeezed your hand. 

"You should go get some sleep now, what were you doing, still up?"

"Reading."

"Good book?"

"Actually." You pulled the diary out from under your covers. "A diary. I found it in the library."

Mrs Hudson eyed the cover. 

"Can I see?"

You handed it to her and she trailed her fingers over the green paper on the front, before she opened it to flick through it. 

"Somebody visited here in 1953. A lady, looking for ghosts."

"Darling, do you think you should be reading this?"

"Did you know that there were people killed here? Like ..." You counted with your fingers. "Lady Beatrice to start with, then Sir Thomas' three wives, Sir Thomas himself and his sister Lucille. That makes six."

Her gaze was stern when she caught your eyes. 

"You have been reading this? Before going to sleep? And how is this going to help you settle in?"

Mrs Hudson shook her head and handed the diary back to you.

"Good god, you must be terrified, considering your overactive imagination."

"Is it true?"

"Every single thing. But it happened over one hundred years ago."

"But this girl, she saw Lucille's ghost, and that was in 1953!" You felt your voice tremble slightly and Mrs Hudson moved up to cup your face and hold your gaze with hers.

"Listen. If you are going on like this, you are going to drive yourself crazy. So, let me be honest with you - ever since I started working here, I have - yes I _have_ \- encountered ghosts. But they never harmed me or caused any harm as long as you leave them in peace. Leave the inhabitants of a house in peace, don't disturb them and they won't disturb you. It's that simple. I've only ever encountered two of them and I don't think there are any more."

Your eyes went wide as she spoke. You knew it. You had known it all along. 

"Now, does knowing it feel better than not knowing?" She asked. 

"I - uh - I'm not sure." 

"You are safe as long as you stick to your schedule. You are not going to be disturbed, if you don't disturb anyone."

You nodded. 

"Ok."

"Rosy and Gerty will be around. So will be Thomas. Just be on your guard with him and don't disturb - his studies."

_You just couldn't figure out why she kept warning you about Thomas._

"Right, I better go and get ready. I'll be leaving at seven, so if you need anything before than, you know where to find me and you have my cellphone number." She smiled and patted your cheek.

"Try to get some sleep."

After she had left you sighed and snuggled up, Loki taking it as an invitation to join you as he moulded his body against yours. It took a while, but finally you closed your eyes and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was a little short, and no Thomas in here - but he will be back :)))


	7. Ghosts are real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spending more time with Thomas :) and visiting his workshop up in the attic
> 
> Wow! Can't believe we're up to chapter 7

It was snowing.

The landscape was dusted with white powder as you went out for your run. Luckily there were open fire places in the house, which you could use to dry out your shoes. Wet running shoes were the worst - smelly as hell.

By the time you returned from your morning run, you were splashed with mud - the red kind that Thomas had told you about - and it looked as if you had been wading through blood. 

_Just to add to the creepiness of the place._

You thought and rolled your eyes. 

You felt oddly good today, considering everything that had happened, everything that you had read in that diary. Somehow it had put you oddly at ease.

The fact that you knew you weren't crazy, but that Mrs Hudson had admitted that there were ghosts here, and that she was so absolutely convinced that you did not have anything to fear as long as you stuck to your routine. 

_Don't disturb them. Don't disturb the house._

Sounded easy enough.

The fires were already stoked and warming up the huge space when you entered, which meant that Rosy and Gerty were up and about. 

You could smell breakfast cooking in the kitchen. 

Before you took off your shoes you halted for a moment, taking in the place - the house that you right now called your "home". You felt surprisingly at ease.

"I'm warming up to you." You muttered, realising you were speaking to the house and it gave you a fuzzy feeling in your chest. "Maybe we can be friends after all."

You were starting to shiver, so you made your way to your room to take a shower.

Hmmm. Hot shower. What a treat. 

Before you left your room you checked if the diary that you had hidden under your mattress was still there. You had implored Loki to keep watch over it and he yawned lazily and fixed his lidded eyes on you, when you pushed your hands under the mattress to find that the book was still in place. 

"Have I told you how much I love you, Loki? You're the best." You bent down and pressed a kiss on top of his head, which made him purr instantly and he stretched so that the whole length of his body was occupying your pillow, before hooking one of his claws into your jumper when you tried to stand up. 

You laughed and carefully squeezed his paw so that he retracted his claws and let you go. 

"Naughty boy. You are way too possessive."

He rolled over onto his back, looking up at you expectantly. You rolled your eyes and scratched his belly.

"My god, Loki, you really know how to train your human, don't you?"

He blinked at you. 

"Yeah, don't play innocent. I'm aware that you know _exactly_ what you are doing."

There it was again. That expression that looked as if he was smirking at you.

" _Rascal_."

The girls had just sat down for breakfast when you arrived, so you helped yourself to some porridge and joined them.

"Is it true that you used to come and play here?"

Gerty smirked. 

"If you're a child who's obsessed with Harry Potter and ghosts, this would be the perfect place to come and play, wouldn't it?"

"Where you never scared?"

Gerty shook her head. 

"Only curious." She took a large spoonful of porridge.

"It's a great place to play hide and seek. And the attic is so creepy it's enchanting."

"So creepy that it's enchanting? Right?"

You repeated, shaking your head and she giggled.

"Do you go up there often?" You asked.

"We keep it neat and clean for Thomas."

"How long have you known him?"

"Since we were little."

"Has he always lived here?"

"Yup."

"How old is he?"

The twins looked at each other, then Gerty shrugged.

"He's old. I mean, he always looked old to us."

You chuckled. 

"Well, he can't be that old. But I guess he hasn't aged much in the past ten years."

The passed another look at each other and grinned impishly.

"He doesn't age." Rosy said. "Are you from New York?"

You nodded. 

"Like Thomas' wife - she was from New York too."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Was she?"

"M-hm."

 _Oh._  

"He likes you." Rosy said and grinned.

You felt your cheeks flush a little.

"Why - what makes you think that?"

"He never comes downstairs for strangers."

"But I'm not a stranger. I'm helping out."

"He never comes downstairs when anyone else is around. Only Mrs Hudson and us see him. He doesn't like people."

"Do you know why?"

They glanced at each other again and you noticed Rosy ever so slightly shaking her head at Gerty, who shrugged her shoulders.

"He just prefers to be alone."

"He likes you a lot though, because he sits in the library with you, doesn't he?"

"Uh, he does. Just so that I won't feel scared."

"Why would you be scared?"

"I'm - well, I'm afraid of ghosts."

The girl's eyes widened slightly then they exchanged another one of those mysterious looks, before they started giggling.

You looked at them a little hurt and confused. 

"Mrs Hudson said there are ghosts here." You said as if to justify your fear of ghosts.

Gerty nodded, still smiling.

_Oh, so did they did know. What were they giggling about then? What the dickens was so funny about your fear of ghosts?_

"Have you seen any?"

Both of the girls nodded. 

_Ohsweetlordjesuschrist._

You irritation about their giggles suddenly forgotten and curiosity kindled.

"Really? What - what did they do?" You leaned in and whispered.

Rosy shrugged. 

"Just kind of what we do?"

"What do you mean? Are they -"

"Good morning, ladies." Thomas' deep velvet voice interrupted you.

He stood in the doorway, a smile gracing his features.

Rosy and Gerty's eyes lit up and both girls offered him wide smiles.

"Morning, Thomas!" They said as one voice.

He laughed softly at their reaction. 

"Good morning." You added.

"Have they been terrifying you with ghost stories?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at them in a playful way.

You cleared your throat, blushing slightly.

_Had he been eavesdropping?_

"Well, they - they were just going to tell me what the ghosts here look like and what they do."

You noticed his eyes studying them intently, before they settled on you.

"Do you really want to know?"

_You actually weren't sure._

So, you bit your lip, shrugged and nodded at the same time. 

"We didn't tell her anything." Rosy said quickly. 

Thomas smiled. 

"It's fine. I will tell her." His soft blue eyes came back to meet yours. "If you are so keen to know."

He caressed you with his velvet voice and a light shiver ran down your back at his words.

"Join me upstairs as soon as you finished breakfast. I will give you a tour of the house, Miss Curiosity."

"I'm almost finished." You blurted out and didn't miss the smug smile that lingered on his lips as you hurried to empty your bowl. 

The twins merely grinned. 

"Just put it in the sink, we'll do the dishes." Rosy said, glancing from Thomas to you. 

You followed him out into the entrance hall, where he stopped and spread his arm.

"Now, my ladyship, it is my honour to welcome you to Allerdale Hall."

You couldn't help but smile. He truly looked like _"his lordship"_ as he stood there - even in his jeans and the blue shirt. Which you noticed he had not worn in a while, but was wearing it today - evidently because he planned to spend time with you. 

_Why did the thought that he dressed like this especially for your make you giddy?_

You tilted your head back to look up at the roof that was partly made from glass, allowing natural light to enter. 

"I never asked Mrs Hudson this, but how many rooms are there?"

A shadow crossed over Thomas' face for the fraction of a second before he smiled, his blue eyes lighting up.

"I don't know. Would you like to count them?"

You turned to him.

"Not by myself, that's for sure." 

"Why? Are you afraid of the ghosts, my dear?"

"Are you making fun of me?"

He merely smiled, little dimples appearing on his cheeks, as he started ascending the stairs.

"My workshop's in the attic. Let's start from the top." 

You followed him and Thomas spoke as the two of you climbed the stairs.

"A house as old as this one becomes, in time, a living thing. It starts holding onto things, keeping them alive when they shouldn't be." He halted for a moment, looking at you, before he continued walking. "Some of those things are good, some of them bad."

Thomas voice dropped almost to a whisper, before he took a deep breath. 

"Some should never be spoken about again."

A cold shiver ran through you and you rubbed your arms.

"Someone close to me once said that - ghosts are real. There are things that tie them to a place. Some remain tied to a bunch of land, a date, a spilling of blood-" He paused "Or a terrible crime."

You swallowed. Thomas moved further up and did not speak again until you reached the landing on the top floor. 

"And then there are others. They hold onto an emotion, a grief, a loss, revenge or - love. Those ghosts never go away."

He sounded almost sad when he turned to look at you, eyebrows drawn up slightly and those blue eyes regarding you with what you could only describe as wistfulness.

"Have I scared you with my musings?"

You shook your head. 

"I don't think you could scare me, Thomas. Even though what you said was utterly creepy." You admitted. "But beautifully spoken." You quickly added.

That made him laugh softly, gaze dropping to the ground for a moment before it came back to meet yours. 

"You are - delightful, my lady."

_Well, that's sweet. Nobody has ever called you delightful before. Or 'my lady'._

"Sometimes I think you were born in a different age, Thomas." It slipped out and you realised too late that it may sound patronising, so you quickly tried to smooth it over. "I mean, that was - a very sweet thing to say. I'm not used to guys being like that. Usually guys are _not_  like that - that nice - maybe it's the British gentleman thing."

A boyish smile blossomed on Thomas face and he took a step towards you, so that he was about a foot or two away, gazing down at you with those clear blue eyes. 

"Are you blushing?" His voice merely a whisper. 

_Now you were._

His eyes shifted between yours, that smile still on his face.

For a moment the world around you stopped existing. 

You felt yourself melt. 

"Thomas -" You started, not even sure what you wanted to say, but your voice broke the spell and Thomas cleared his throat, quickly averting his gaze as he stepped away from you.

"Come, I'll show you my workshop." He turned to walk down the open corridor.

_Damn._

_That had definitely been a moment. A pretty good moment. And then you scared him away._

You mentally slapped your forehead.

_Well done._

Then you remembered Mrs Hudson's words. 

_"Thomas is a good boy, but it would be unwise to take him as anything else than a friend. Just be on your guard with him and don't disturb - his studies."_

 You sighed.

_Well, you were not necessarily disturbing him or his studies - it was rather the other way around. You had to admit that you found HIM intensely disturbing._

"Come." He had already reached the far end, while you were still on the landing. 

_Right, girl, pull yourself together._

"It must be a lot of work to maintain the house. Has it always been in your family?"

You tried to get your mind back to the reality of the top floor of the Allerdale Hall.

"It's a privilege I was born into, one I can never relinquish."

"So much work - like to maintain the structure alone - then the electrical wiring and all, not to speak of the interior."

"We manage somehow. Luckily I have Mrs Hudson and the girls to help with the house."

He pushed open a door and entered a long room that was filled with all sorts of machines and tools - and books - lots of books. You also noticed quite a few notebooks stacked up on the work desks. And - looking oddly out of place, like a futurist object that had time travelled to another era - an i-mac sat on a secretary desk in the corner.

Well, since he owned a company that did web design and lived in the 21st century, he needed to have a computer somewhere - it just looked entirely out of place in this house that was so backwards in so many ways. 

"Wow." Escaped you when you walked further into the room. 

"Do you like my workshop?"

"It's wonderful. But so - full. What is all this stuff?"

"Different things I worked on over the years. Trials and failures."

You ran your hand over a row of books. 

Higher mathematics, physics, ...

"Quantum physics?"

"Fascinating concepts to say the least."

"What is this?" You pointed at a small structure that looked like a bowling pin wrapped in aluminium foil.

"A Tesla magnifier."

"A what?"

"Nicola Tesla invented it in an attempt to bring free electricity to people."

He leaned forward and flicked a switch on the base of the pin, then he went to the back of the workshop and returned with a lightbulb in his hand. As he held it close to the bowling pin, the bulb lit up. 

You gasped. 

Thomas watched you, pleased with your reaction.

"It's almost like magic, isn't it?"

He moved it further away and the light diminished and went out.

"It is! Oh my god. It's incredible. Can I try?"

You could not quite hide the excitement in your voice and he handed you the light bulb, watching as you held it close. You grinned when it lit up. 

_This was amazing._

It only worked in a small radius around the pin, so you kept holding it close and pulling it away to make the light come on and go off. You giggled like a little child as you did.

When you looked up at Thomas, you found him watching you with that boyish smile on his face again. His eyes had something so beautiful, so open and almost innocent. 

You smiled at him.

"It's good to have you." He said. "Here in the house, I mean."

"It's nice to be here - with you, I mean."

_Oops. That kind of slipped out._

The sound of something breaking let you look up. You spun around. 

"What was that?"

Thomas walked past you and looked out into the hall. 

"Probably just the wind."

You followed him.

"It sounded like it came from somewhere close. Down that direction."

"There's nothing down there." He said, nevertheless you started walking coming to a narrow passage that led around the corner and to the elevator. You looked around. 

"See? There is nothing there. Maybe something came loose and dropped down the elevator shaft. It hasn't been serviced in years."

You nodded. But you couldn't shake off the feeling that someone else was there. Close by. 

"Come, I will show you the rest of the house."

The attic also held a small bedroom, but not much more and you wondered how he could bear spend so much time up here. 

As the two of you descended the stairs to the next floor, you remembered the conversation in the kitchen, and you could not hold back. You needed to know. 

"Thomas?"

"Hm?"

"You were going to tell me about the ghosts?"

He halted, gaze dropping to the ground for a long moment before he turned his eyes towards you.

"And will you be able to sleep at night if I do?"

There was genuine concern in his voice.

"I've got Loki." You offered. "He keeps me company at night."

Thomas' eyes narrowed and he huffed. 

"You don't seem to like each other." You chuckled.

"You spoil him and you shouldn't."

"I feel better with him around."

"I wish you wouldn't let him into your room." Then tone of Thomas voice changed to slightly irritated.

You frowned. 

"Why not?"

But he merely shook his head and dropped the subject.

"So, you still believe that the ghost of my mo-- my ancestor is haunting these halls?"

"Well, Mrs Hudson said she's seen two ghosts."

Thomas furrowed his brow. 

"She has said that to you?"

"I told her about the diary of the lady who came here in the 1950s looking for ghosts and that she saw Lucille and -"

Thomas eyes seemed to grow slightly larger with every word you said. 

"Lucille?"

"Yes, you know, one of the siblings who lived here and murdered their mother."

He looked as if he'd been slapped in the face, before he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

You fell quiet. 

For a while neither of you said anything.

"Where did you put the diary?"

"I have it in my room."

He let his hand sink to his side, but didn't meet your eyes.

"You shouldn't be reading this."

"But if it's true, and there are ghosts here..."

"Then - what?"

"It means, that I'm not merely imagining it, right? And Mrs Hudson said that if I don't disturb them then they would leave me alone."

Thomas shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. 

"Mrs Hudson." he muttered.

"Why are you so reluctant to tell me anything?"

His eyes snapped up to yours, and the amount of guilt and grief that laced his gaze perplexed you.

"Because I do not wish for you to be afraid."

"I'll be more afraid if I don't know what I'm dealing with."

He sighed.

"If I tell you that there are ghosts here and that they, they don't mean any harm, would that satisfy you?"

"Well, one of them tried to steal the diary last night. But, I guess, he didn't - or she - didn't do any harm, so..."

Thomas looked taken aback by your words and cleared his throat, but didn't say anything.

"Is it true? That story about the siblings who killed their mother?"

He looked incredibly vulnerable in this moment and somehow you wished you hadn't asked, but he finally nodded.

"Their parents." He swallowed. "What else did that diary say?" 

"That they poisoned his wives, because they didn't have enough money to maintain the house."

"That is - also true." He seemed weak all of a sudden. 

You bit your lip. You did not like seeing him so evidently agonised. 

"I'm sorry." You offered. "That's so -"

"Appalling?"

You shook your head.

"Painful."

"Disgusting."

"Sad."

"Cruel."

"Hear-breaking."

His gaze held yours the hole time you spoke. 

"Pitiful." He concluded. 

"Thomas." you reached out your hand to put it on his arm, but to your bewilderment he stepped back - like he had done that time you wanted to give him the chocolates. As if he was afraid you would touch him.

The move confused you and hurt a little.

But when you looked at Thomas, you could tell he was much more hurt than you were. There was such vulnerability in his gaze, you were surprised not to catch the glimpse of tears in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I did not mean to upset you, Thomas."

He blinked. Then he huffed and it turned into soft laughter. 

"I am merely not fond of my family history." 

"It's in the past. There's nothing to be ashamed of."

He pressed his lips together. 

"You are such a sweet creature. So - unassuming. My family history is shameful and I am not proud of it."

You shook your head.

"But it's not you, Thomas."

He turned away and cleared his throat. 

"Tell me something about yourself. Your family. Your city." He suddenly said, and you know it was time to diverge the conversation.

So, you spent the next hour wandering around the house, telling him about your family.

Your mother and father, your little brother and your grandmother who was responsible for putting those ghost stories into your head. And the dreams you had when you were a child. Nightmares of ghosts chasing after you through the endless, cold halls of a huge mansion - the reason why you were so afraid of them.

You told him about New York. Your favourite little restaurants in the Village. The best Dosa in the park behind the Skirball Centre. Those yummy little Asian sweets you got just down the road from there.

And when you settled in the library so you could finish the last book shelves, you were happy that you had managed to bring the smile back on Thomas' face. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed that! :) Let me know your thoughts.
> 
> Thomas has existed as a ghost for over a hundred years now and has been able to gather a lot of knowledge, so I borrowed some inspiration from my other story and let him have a Tesla magnifier. 
> 
> In "Good things come in threes" Thomas lives together with Adam and they have their own little science projects going on - since Adam is not only a musician, but also a science geek (basically a genius) - and has actually met many of the great souls that lived over the past 400 years - and the only thing that Thomas ever really lived for were his inventions and the hope for a brighter future.


	8. Dark secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! And sorry to keep you waiting for soooo long!! Just returned from a well-earned week of holiday and hopefully filled with new creative ideas :)
> 
> ... We're getting a bit closer in this chapter ....

When you returned to your room that night, you pulled out the diary and started reading, leaning against the headboard of the bed, while Loki rolled up on your lap. You scratched Loki's head and he purred softly. 

"I really like him, Loki."

The cat stretched his paw, hooking his claws into your pyjama pants before he gazed at you. 

"I like Thomas." It sounded odd to say it out loud. "I like you too." 

He purred loudly and you chuckled.

_July 21_

_I have been fortunate enough to see Lucille again. She does not seem to take notice of me when I am there in the spacious living area with her, so I sat and watched her play the piano until she rose and left. I followed her up to the attic where she disappeared in a small chamber that was probably her bedroom once. I shall ask Mr Sharpe, Thomas, as he asked me to call him, about it. I wonder if I will get to see the other Thomas, too. Lucille's brother that is._

_Mr Sharpe, is a true gentleman. He takes great care in educating me about the family history and treats me with such kindness. He has a gentle soul and I wonder how he manages to live out here all by himself, and why he has never taken a wife. An attractive and wealthy man like him should have plenty of ladies fawning over him, but it seems that he prefers the solitude._

_July 22_

_Lucille looked at me tonight. It chilled me to the bone._

__July 23_ _

_Things have changed. While I am growing eager to leave this place, I am also intrigued. It seems that the ghosts have started to become aware of my presence._

_Books fell out of the shelf above me when I was looking for something in the library yesterday, and the tea tray that sat on the side table in my room was flipped over, the fine bone china shattering and the full tea pot spilled its content all over the floor._

_This could all be incidentally of course,_ _but if I am interpreting the happenings of the last couple of days correctly, I would say that Thomas (the ghost) does not like the attention I give Lucille. Either that or Lucille does not appreciate my presence. Although, apart from looking at me once, she has stuck to her usual routine of playing the piano and returning to her room. Still, it is possible that she feels I am disturbing the peace of the house._

_I have not spoken to Mr Sharpe about it yet, as Thomas is currently occupied holding a business meeting with his associate, Mr Odinson, who has come up from London for the day. I will speak to Thomas at dinner tonight._

_July 23 addendum_

_"Somebody" tripped me on the way downstairs to dinner. I clearly felt it, and I nearly fell and would have badly hurt myself, had I not been quick to react and grab hold of the banister. I am not easily frightened, but this is certainly becoming a dangerous game._

_I spoke to Thomas and he seemed extremely concerned about the development of one of the ghosts attacking me. He was kind enough to make arrangements for me to be picked up by a cab tomorrow afternoon._

_July 24_

_It's Lucille. She appeared in my room last night and told me to leave Thomas alone._

_At first I was confused as I never met Thomas, the ghost, but then I realised that Lucille refers to Mr Sharpe as Thomas, evidently mistaking him for her deceased brother. She disappeared, but then_   _she_   _attacked me with a knife this morning when I came into the kitchen and I narrowly escaped, screaming for help._

_Right now, as I am writing this, I am hiding in my wardrobe._

_But I can hear that somebody in the room and judging by the sound of furniture breaking, it is Lucille. I never thought I would say this, but I am frightened. Scared._

_I hope Thomas heard my screams and gets here soon._

_I do not know what she will do, should she find me._

_But I am certain that she will._

You turned the page. It was blank.

_Oh god, really? No! It couldn't just end here!_

You skimmed through the pages. The rest of the diary was blank too. 

_Good god, what happened to her?_

There was a noise by the door and you shot upright, almost throwing Loki off your lap. He hissed softly. 

Then you heard Thomas voice coming from the other side of the door, asking permission to enter. 

"Yup, sure, come in." 

You felt relieved, but when the door opened and the raven-haired, tall man entered your room, you suddenly felt a chill run over your body and goosebumps spreading on your skin. 

"Is everything alright?" Concern laced Thomas' voice as he regarded you with those soft eyes. 

"Uh, yes. I guess. So."

Your hands were shaking as you placed the diary aside and dug your fingers into Loki's fur, pulling him closer. 

 _This was just Thomas. There was no need to be afraid of him._ _The story in the diary had scared you._

Thomas eyes fell on the book beside you. 

"Have you been reading this? Is this the diary you spoke of?"

You nodded.

"Maybe it is not the right thing to read before you retire? You look scared." His clear eyes searched yours as he walked up and stopped at the end of the bed. "I thought you may want to read something more uplifting before you go to sleep."

He held out two books to you and you hesitantly leaned forward to take them. 

"' _A wrinkle in time_ ' and ' _Peter Pan_ '?"

You frowned.

"Excellent bed time stories and both books that should occupy your more than lively imagination."

You chuckled. 

"They are children's books."

_That was kind of sweet of him._

"Maybe I am sentimental. I would have very much liked to read them when I was a child, but I never had the opportunity."

Those blue eyes were filled with sadness again when you met his gaze and your chest contracted a little.

"I'm sorry, Thomas."

"You have no need to be."

"Thank you. It's very kind of you to lend me those books." you offered him a genuine smile and his face lit up. Relief washed over you.

Then you reached for the diary and handed it to him. 

"I just finished reading this, but it ends - well, it just ends and - maybe you could read it and find out what happened to the girl who wrote this book? I would really like to know."

He traced the back of the diary with his finger, looking deep in thought for a moment, before his eyes came back to you and the smile returned to his face.

"I shall do my best to find out." He cleared his throat. "I better let you rest now."

With that he retreated rather quickly and just as he was about to pull the door closed behind him, you called his name, Thomas halted and turned around. 

"Thank you, Thomas. Sweet dreams."

"And to you."

His smile was the last thing you saw before the door closed and you let yourself drop backwards onto the bed, cuddling Loki closer to you.

Your heart felt light all of a sudden and your stomach was filled with butterflies.

"I _really_ like him, Loki. I mean, isn't it so sweet that he brought me those books?" You rolled your eyes at yourself. "God, I feel giddy like a little girl."

Loki purred when you scratched his neck and hugged him tighter, then you put the books on the bedside table and switched off the light. Turning to your side you pulled Loki stretched out, molding his body to yours, purring softly.

"I really like him." You breathed before you fell asleep.

 

***

 

The next couple of weeks passed much quicker than you would have liked. Mrs Hudson returned for a few days, to see to it that everything was in order and you had all you needed to get you through the Christmas holidays. The twins were going home for Christmas and Mrs Hudson was heading back to London, which meant you were going to be by yourself for anything from one to maybe two weeks, depending on Mrs Hudson's sisters health. 

You felt that a Christmas tree might brighten up the old mansion, so the four of you went into the village to choose a tree and buy decorations. The twins and you spent the afternoon of their departure decorating the tree. 

"Thomas is watching us." Gerty said with a wide grin.

"Really?" You craned your neck to look up and see if you could spot him. You couldn't. 

"We never had a Christmas tree before."

"What do you mean? Thomas never had a Christmas tree?"

"Nope." The girl shook her head.

_What was it with that man?_

"Does that mean he never - celebrated Christmas before?"

"Don't think so." Rosy said and put a pink glass bubble on one of the branches, next to a lime green figure of Santa that was covered in plenty of silver glitter. 

It was a rather _colourful_ tree as all of you had chosen the items you liked best and your taste deferred _slightly_ from that of the twins. 

_Thomas had never celebrated Christmas?_

_Not used to getting presents._ You remembered.

You smiled to yourself. 

Now you were really happy that you had a gift for him. 

"You should go and get him." Rosy suddenly said. "He is very curious. But don't ask him too many questions. Thomas doesn't like questions."

_Yes, you'd figured that out. He tended to avoid answering yours._

Someone cleared their throat behind you and you nearly had a heart-attack when you turned around and Thomas was right there. 

_Good god, where had he come from?_

His forehead creased, eyes full of consternation. 

"I'm sorry, it was not my intent to startle you."

You held your hand to your chest, trying to calm your breath while the girls giggled.

"It's ok. I just - I didn't hear you."

He offered you a smile and you regained your composure. Or at least you tried. The fact that Thomas stood close, his eyes large and soft as he regarded you, eyebrows slightly raised and that smile that played on his lips.

It made your nerves flutter and for a moment you forgot where you were.

"A penny for your thoughts, my lady." Thomas breathed. 

Your heart skipped a beat. Then you cleared your throat and tore your eyes away. 

This was ridiculous. You were being ridiculous. You were making a complete fool of yourself.

You placed a hand on your forehead and tried to hide the blush that was creeping up your neck.

"I relish the fact that my presence seems to be able to fluster you." Thomas whispered, his voice right there, close to your ear.

"What?" You looked up. He was still standing a few feet away, smiling. 

_Jesus Christ. Were you so desperate that you imagined him flirting with you?_

You bit your lip but couldn't help but notice that his eyes flicked down to your mouth for the fraction of a moment.

"You two love birds. We could do with a hand over here." Gerty said and sniggered softly. Rosy pushed her elbow in her sisters side, which only made Gerty giggle. 

You blushed and Thomas laughed one of those rare pearly teeth laughs that made him irresistibly attractive. 

Damn it. You had developed a rather bad crush on him.

Worse, you were falling in love, you realised as Thomas walked over to talk to the girls and started decorating the tree with them. You watched as he smiled and laughed while the girls grinned and giggled. At some point he glanced over at you, eyes full of joy and affection and your heart melted into a puddle. 

You took a deep breath and smiled weakly before you picked up a small crystal decoration to fasten it on one of the branches.

The thought that you would soon be alone with this man made you giddy, as well as _nervous_. 

The rest of the afternoon was filled with laughter until around five o'clock the twins' father arrived to pick up the girls. You earned yourself a couple of tight hugs before you watched them drive off. 

Mrs Hudson made to leave shortly afterwards, reminding you of what to do in case the water pipes froze up, or the power cut out, which apparently happened a lot during blizzards. 

"Make sure you keep your phone charged." She patted your cheek. "You can call me anytime, darling."

She glanced over your shoulder and when you turned you saw Thomas leaning in the doorway. 

"Goodbye, Thomas." She smiled at him.

"Goodbye, Mrs Hudson."

Her eyes wandered back to you. 

"Take good care of yourself. We will see each other soon."

You waved her goodbye before you walked back inside, stomping the snow off your boots. 

Thomas glanced at you for a long moment before he pushed off the door frame, excused himself and disappeared up the stairs. 

The house fell eerily silent after that. 

You were grateful for Loki's company at dinner and he joined you as usual when you retired to your room, where you went straight to bed and just when your mind finally started to lose its grip on reality, you heard the faint sound of a piano. A sound you had gotten so used to. It made you smile.

 _I'll miss the twins,_ you thought as you dozed off.

Then you shot upright. 

The twins. They weren't here anymore.

_But if the twins weren't here - who was playing the piano?_

Without thinking and surprised by your sudden courage, you pulled back the duvet and slipped out of bed. Wrapped up in your thick jumper and armed with your cellphone you stepped out onto the landing, switching on the torch.

The music was louder out here.

You listened into the dimly lit hall.

It came from upstairs.

Go back to bed. A faint voice in the back of your mind whispered.

Apparently it wasn't loud enough, because, before you knew it, you started ascending the stairs, following the tune. It brought you right up to the top floor. The attic.

Thomas' floor. 

You frowned.

You couldn't remember seeing a piano anywhere up there. 

You listened again.

The soft melody came from down the hall, from the direction where you had heard the shattering of glass last time you came up here to see Thomas. Only that there was nothing down that way. No rooms at least. Certainly no piano. Just the elevator. 

"What are you doing up here?"

_Jesusmaryandjoseph!!_

You shrieked. Your hand flew to your mouth and you dropped your phone.

"Thomas! _Jesuschristyouscaredme!_ "

You panted and stared at him. 

He stood a few feet away, his pale skin shimmering, even in the darkness. 

"I apologise for giving you a fright, but _what_ are you doing up here in the middle of the night?"

"I heard music." You bent down to retrieve your phone.

"You truly have a vivid imagination."

"It wasn't my imagination." You tried not to get irritated. He must have heard it, surely. 

"But there is nobody in the house apart from us, my dear." His voice was deceivingly soft.

"I am aware of that. Well, there are - the ghosts."

"Right." 

_That was all?_

"There hasn't been a piano in this house for years."

You narrowed your eyes at him. 

_You hadn't told him that you'd heard piano music, so he had heard it too, obviously._

Thomas was keeping something from you - again.

"It came from down there." You pointed in the direction of the elevator. 

"There is nothing down there. Maybe you should go back to sleep."

"Thomas, don't treat me like a child. I'm _not_ imagining things."

He took a step towards you, his figure illumined by the light of your cell phone torch.

"And if I told you it were a ghost, you stubborn girl, would that satisfy you?" His eyes were different. Harder than usual. "If they frighten you so much, then why do you keep seeking them out?"

You took a step back and he moved with you.

"I - I don't know."

"Don't take them lightly."

You merely shook your head, staring up at him. His eyes softened.

"Sometimes fear is a good thing, because it can keep you safe." 

"I just - I just need to know."

"If I were to tell you that what you heard was - a ghost, would that not frighten you even more?"

"Not if I know that she is locked away somewhere and won't - won't harm me."

Thomas eyes narrowed.

" _She?_ "

"Lucille." You whispered. 

_It was the only explanation. The diary. Wasn't she the ghost who played the piano?_

Thomas stared at you for a long moment, eyes large and deep.

"I will not allow her to harm you." He finally said.

You held his gaze.

_So it was true. The diary. It was all true._

"Why don't you just tell me the truth, Thomas? Why do you hide things? And what are the things you're hiding?"

Thomas closed the distance between you and you had to tilt your head up to hold his gaze. The pale light of your phone was on his face, giving it a soft touch and his eyes flicked back and forth between yours.

"I've always closed my eyes to things that made me uncomfortable. It makes everything easier."

He held your gaze and you stood frozen to the spot. He was beautiful.

"But maybe, I shouldn't. Maybe I should try - and keep them open."

HIs eyes were so soft, deep and yet so full of pain. 

"You shouldn't be up here. Don't ever come up here by yourself." He whispered.

His hand came up to your face and you thought he would touch you, but then his eyes filled with grief and he quickly pulled his hand away.

"Go back to bed. Please. We can talk tomorrow."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this!!
> 
> I like it how he keeps giving her frights - even though he tries so hard not to be a ghost.


	9. Skeletons in the closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shocking revelations

Something tickled your face and you scrunched your nose. You moved, accidentally burying your face deeper into Loki's fur. He gave off a lazy purr. 

"Gees, Loki." You muttered. "Are you trying to suffocate me?"

You rolled over and rubbed your face. Your nose was itchy from the cat hair. 

When you looked at the culprit, he opened one eye to glance at you. 

"You're making my nose itch."

He merely turned onto his back and stretched, evidently expecting you to rub his tummy, so you obeyed and he elicited a satisfied purr.

"Thomas was right. I shouldn't spoil you." He purred a little louder. "Well, it's kinda too late for that, I guess."

After a shower you went downstairs to stoke the fires and get some breakfast. There was no way you would run today. It had snowed overnight and there was a thick blanket of white covering everything. 

You spent over and hour shovelling a path from the house to the road and then one to the garage, in case you needed to use the car. By the time you finished you where ready to take another shower.

It was only a matter of days until Christmas and this was certainly was going to be a white one.

After you'd spent some time with dusting and polishing furniture in one of the rooms on the upper floors, you settled in the library with a cup of hot chocolate and a book. 

"Good morning." Thomas voice was velvet and soft as he came up the stairs to the library and you looked up to greet him with a smile.

After last night you were even more grateful for his presence here. Grateful that you weren't alone with the ghosts.

Especially since one of those who were around could apparently be rather vicious.

"Good morning, Thomas." You replied and closed your book. "I guess you owe me some answers after last night?"

Thomas eyes rested on you for a long moment before he cleared his throat and sat down on the other end of the daybed you had settled on.

"What is it you wish to know?"

"Lucille - is still around?" 

He ran his fingers through his hair. 

"She is."

"Did you read the green diary after I gave it to you? You never told me if you found out what happened to the girl."

"I - she - apparently she left Allerdale Hall unscathed." 

_Ok, that was a relief to know._

"What happened to Lucille? And Thomas?"

"As far as I know the grand piano was removed after the incident, and a smaller one was brought upstairs to Lucille's room, the door to her room was sealed and her spirit confined to the limits of the attic. She hasn't harassed any other guests since."

"How - how can you _confine_ a ghost? I mean, aren't they meant to walk through walls and stuff?"

"Even the subtle realms of spirits has limits. It is in the nature of a ghost to be bound to a place or a person. I - ghosts cannot leave the confines of a house if they are bound to a place. They often follow a certain routine and only react if something disrupts their pattern or stirs an emoitonal response."

You let his words sink in.

"How -" you tried to find the right words. "How can a ghost get _emotional_? Lucille attacked that poor girl out of jealousy, right?"

"As I said, ghosts are bound by different things, but more often than not, their lingering is connected to intense emotions. If they are bound by an emotion and this emotion is triggered, they respond."

That sounded plausible.

"So if Lucille gets jealous, she will react the same way she would have when she was alive?"

"Not quite as simple, but pretty much. Ghosts tend to be trapped in their own reality. Reliving their pain over and over again."

"Wow, sounds like hell."

"It is. Your own personal version of hell."

"But they're not - conscious of that, are they?"

"Some of them are." He averted his gaze.

"That's - I mean, that is worse than hell then - if you're conscious of what you've done and you're stuck in an endless cycle of reliving it over and over again."

"Most ghosts are bound because of their own actions. Lucille and Thomas murdered his - his wives and their own parents. Do you not think they _deserve_ to suffer?"

You glanced over at him, his eyes had shifted back to you, but his gaze was unreadable.

"I guess, the consequence of doing anything that is not based on goodwill or love, will always be suffering. But, I'm not sure if I could be the judge of what they _deserve_."

"W-why would you say that? They did terrible things."

"For all they've done wrong, they did it because they were mistreated as children. That's the thing that really terrifies me, because if a child is desperate enough to commit a murder - how could that person ever become a good person?"

You believed in choice and that human beings were always able to choose which way to take - but the story of these children disturbed you deeply.

"I believed that we always have the choice to make our life better - but they - they didn't have a _choice_ , did they? Whatever happened in their childhood made them desperate enough to take desperate measures. Horrifying measures. I don't believe that they were born murderers. They were children who deserved _love_. As much as the thought of Lucille being up there terrifies me, I think she would have been terrified. Thomas was the only one she had. She tried to protect her brother, didn't she?"

"She - killed him. Just - just when everything seemed to take a turn for the better."

You stared at him.

"What do you mean?"

He took a deep breath and rubbed his forehead.

"Thomas wasn't going to kill his wife. He wanted to leave Allerdale Hall and start somewhere new. A new life. But Lucille ... she - couldn't let him go. She was so jealous. She had gone insane, Thomas just never wanted to see it. And, in the end, she killed him."

"Oh god." You whispered.

"Never apart." Thomas whispered. "She'd rather see m - rather kill her brother than share him. And he was too weak - despicably weak. Now they're bound to each other. Never apart."

He chuckled darkly.

"They thought they only had each other, I guess. They never got the love they needed."

Thomas averted his eyes, gaze lost in the distance.

"Love can drive one to do horrible things. It can be so twisted and monstrous."

"NO. Love doesn't do that. It is fear, it is insecurity and doubt that drive us to do those horrible things."

Thomas' eyes searched yours. 

"You have a naive way of looking at the world."

"I believe that love is able to heal - it doesn't destroy. I don't think that's naive."

"Love is treacherous. And it - brings pain. You've clearly never loved."

Your heart contracted at his words. He seemed like a sensitive soul and yet he also carried so much pain.

His tone was defensive, so you decided to divert the conversation.

"So, the ghosts, they are pretty much doing their own thing, unless somebody disturbs them?"

"Somebody or something disturbs their peace."

This is what Mrs Hudson had been trying to tell you. 

As long as you don't disturb them, they'll leave you in peace.

Well, you weren't planning on disturbing Lucille or making her jealous.

"If Lucille is bound to upstairs, do you - actually see her?"

"She is mostly confined to her room. She doesn't bother me."

"Then, what about him? Thomas?"

There was a slight shift in his gaze that you couldn't place. He looked away.

"I've seen him."

"What is he - like?"

"Remorseful. He regrets what happened."

He said absent-mindedly, then he lifted his blue eyes to yours. 

"I believe you are right."

"About what?"

"About having a choice. But sometimes it is simply too late to make the right choice."

"I don't think it's ever too late to make the right choice, Thomas."

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. 

"There must be a way to release them, though."

"What?"

"The ghosts."

"Sometimes they are set free after a while, but if they are bound by an injustice they did to others, it often requires another human being to liberate them. Free their souls."

"How?"

He shook his head. 

"I'm not sure. Pray for them, I guess? Forgive them?"

"You know a lot about them."

"I've lived in this house for a long time."

You nodded. Thomas spoke your name softly and you searched his eyes.

"Promise me, you will never go up there by yourself. As long as her room is sealed, Lucille is bound, but she can sense you. Don't - don't disturb her."

You nodded and smiled. 

"I won't disturb her - or Thomas. I promise."

 

***

 

It was a couple of days later, when you and Thomas were in the kitchen. 

You had made a cup of tea and turned around to place it on the table, when Loki shot up from where he had been sleeping and ran right between your legs. You shrieked and almost lost your balance so you instinctively reached out to grab Thomas' arm.

You only grabbed air. Icy cold air.

_What the hell?_

You stood there, cup of tea in one hand, the other hand tingling from the cold, staring at Thomas and your rational mind coming to a complete halt.

Thomas' eyes widened, before his face changed to forced composure.

"Are you alright, dear?"

"Loki." You stammered, staring at Thomas' arm. "I tripped over him."

_No. Couldn't be. You couldn't have ... reached right through Thomas as if he was - as if he was a -_

_You must have imagined it._

"Loki." Thomas growled softly. "You look pale, why don't you sit down and have your tea?"

_Must have imagined it._

And yet you could still feel your skin tingle from the cold.

Without thinking, you took a step forward and reached for Thomas' arm again.

_You needed to know._

Thomas almost jumped back.

"What are you doing?" He burst out.

"I - I want to touch you,"

"What? _Why?_ "

A flicker of panic crossed his face. You searched his eyes.

Your mind still hadn't processed what your intuition already blared at you. And you didn't like the message.

At all.

"I need to touch you, Thomas."

He shook his head and took another step back, bumping into the chair behind him. 

Well, he should have bumped into it, but he didn't. He literally walked into it - or rather through it.

That's when you reached out and both of you gasped loudly when your hand went straight through him. 

With a squeal of shock you pulled your hand back.

It wasn't only the fact that you could reach right through him, but the fact that he felt cold. 

Icy to be precise.

Your lip quivered as you stared up at him. 

Thomas' eyebrows drew together, his forehead creased and you thought his eyes filled with something akin to regret. 

"Please, I can explain." He whispered.

"You - you're a - you -"

You couldn't bring yourself to say the words. You couldn't bring yourself to allow your mind to understand what you had just learned. 

Your hands were shaking and your chest tightened.

"Please." Thomas tried again and took a step forward. 

"Don't come any closer!" 

"I beg you."

You shook your head, noticing your eyes fill with tears as you slowly walked backwards. 

He had made you believe you were friends.

You had fallen for him. 

Flirted with him. 

He had lied to you this whole time. 

"You are -  _Lucille's_ Thomas."

His face fell.

For a long moment the two of you merely stared at each other, before he whispered your name.

"Please, let me explain. I never meant any harm."

"You _lied_  to me."

"I haven't."

"But - you're - you're a ghost!"

"But I never lied to you about it. You never asked." He quickly said and you felt the a couple of tears roll down your cheeks. 

"That first night, I came to your room because you were so frightened. I could sense your terror up there in the attic. I meant to comfort you."

You pressed your hand against your mouth and just stared at him.

"I was going to be honest with you, but when - when you told me what you were afraid of - how could I have told you what I am? I am the very thing you're terrified of."

You shook your head and took another step backwards, towards the door. 

"I thought you were my friend." You stammered. "I - I trusted you."

"I am."

Thomas took another step towards you and you turned and ran. You sprinted up the stairs to your room and slammed the door closed, pushing the heavy lounge chair in front of it then you jumped onto your bed, staring at the door. 

Everything fell quiet. 

You stared at the door and the chair, realising what an utterly ridiculous attempt this was to keep out a ghost.

And then you remembered all those times you'd felt someone's presence. You remembered that someone had been in your room, trying to steal the diary. A ghost.

Thomas.

And that Loki had known. 

That was why Thomas wasn't fond of Loki. Because Loki knew.

You drew your legs up to your chest and kept staring at the door.

Thomas.

That's why he never allowed you to touch him.

Thomas, the man you'd become friends with. Who had comforted you and made you feel safe.

The man you learnt to love over the past weeks. 

Mrs Hudson had tried to warn you, hadn't she? And yet, she never told you the truth either.

If anyone had told you that Thomas was a freaking ghost, you would have never befriended him. Would have never sought out his company.

And most of all - you would have never allowed yourself to fall for him. 

Your heart felt as though it had been ripped apart and trampled on. 

He should have told you.

Mrs Hudson should have told you.

You'd grown to love his presence. You'd looked forward to spending Christmas with him. 

But it was all - a lie.

A lie. 

Thomas wasn't real.

Thomas was - a ghost.

And then, an even more disturbing realisation washed over you. 

Thomas wasn't only a ghost. He was - a murderer.

You cried out and buried your face in your arms.

_How could he have lied to you all that time?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm. So now - what?


	10. Haunted affections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting closer

You lay curled up on your bed, staring out the window. It was still snowing. 

Somehow you had cried yourself to sleep and when you woke, you could feel his presence in your room. 

Now that you knew what he was, you were aware that it was Thomas' presence. 

A presence that had been around you many times over the past weeks. You had taken note of it and yet you had been entirely unaware of who this presence belonged to.

It was a feeling of safety. 

And as you lay there, in your bed, feeling him, you realised that, just like Loki, Thomas made you feel safe. 

His presence comforted you.

It had given you comfort right from that first time when he appeared in your room. 

He had neither scared you nor had he harmed you in any way. 

You heaved a small sigh.

No, Thomas had been incredibly nice company and you enjoyed the time you spent together. 

_So, why did you freak out when you found out he was a ghost?_

Ghosts were real. 

You had known that. 

They still scared you though, and the fact that the man you had started to fall for was from the spirit realm was something that your mind found very difficult to process.

Yes, Thomas had lied to you about things, but he hadn't meant any harm, had he?

Yes, he was over a hundred years old and had killed his parents and wives.

But you remembered how ashamed he was of his family's "history". Apart from that, hadn't you felt compassion for Thomas and his sister? 

And yet, it still bothered you. He had murdered people. People who trusted him.

And he had said himself that ghosts had emotional triggers, what if you pushed the wrong button and triggered a _murderous_ response?

You closed your eyes and felt your chest tighten.

But he had also said that he had wanted to turn over a new leaf, to leave Allerdale Hall with his wife. He had not wanted to kill his last wife. 

If he truly was out to harm you, wouldn't he have done so already?

And what about Mrs Hudson and the girls? Now that you thought about their reactions and some of the things they said, you were certain that they knew Thomas was a ghost.

And they trusted him. 

Although Mrs Hudson had warned you about disturbing him, hadn't she?

But she wouldn't have left you alone here, if she'd thought you were in danger.

"Thomas?" You asked into the empty room. 

No answer.

"I can feel your presence, so if you're here, I - I'd like to speak with you."

"I am." the familiar velvet voice came from behind you.

You sat up on your bed and turned around to look at him. 

He stood behind the large lounge chair next to the fire place, his hands on the back of the chair, those blue eyes wide and filled with sadness. 

"Can we - talk about this?" You asked and pulled up your knees to put your arms around them.

"If that is what you wish." He answered politely.

You nodded. Then you shook your head.

"Look, I'm sorry. I - I guess, I overreacted? I mean, I've been terrified of ghosts for my entire life, I think, my mind just couldn't cope with - thefactthatyou'reaghost."

"I - understand." He averted his eyes and you felt your chest tighten.

"The thing is - I've never felt afraid in your presence. Although, now that I think about it, you gave me quite a few scares, when you kept popping up out of nowhere." You teased in an attempt to cheer him up.

"I apologise." He looked unomfortable.

"It was a joke. I was just teasing you, Thomas."

"Oh." His gaze met yours and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards.

You took a deep breath.

"I don't think that Mrs Hudson would have left me alone with you, if she'd thought you'd murder me or something, but I need to hear this from you, because I want to know what I'm up against here. I mean, not that you'd actually be honest with me if you had the intention of murdering me, because that would probably defeat the purpose. But I - just - if I do something that triggers something in you, are you - are you going to snap and kill me?"

You bit your lip after you'd said it, but you had to, because otherwise it would always hang there, like the sword of Damocles.

Thomas looked even paler than usual and the expression on his face was unreadable, but his eyes - his eyes were large and so full of pain, that you wished you would not have said a single word or at least that you could have taken him into your arms to console him.

Finally he cleared his throat.

"I can assure you that I never had the intention of doing anything like that."

"I'm sorry, Thomas."

His eyes widened a little, those dark pupils growing even larger. 

How could he react so much like a human being when he was - a _ghost_?

_Ok, you needed to stop this._

You needed to stop calling him a ghost.

You needed to stop comparing him to a person.

You needed to stop thinking of him as someone weird.

You needed to stop judging him and treating him as if he was a freak of nature. 

Although to be honest, he kind of was. 

"There is no need to apologise. I should have either been honest with you or left you in peace. I should never have entered your room on that night in the first place."

"You made me feel safe, Thomas. I'm glad that you came to my room."

He stared at you, eyes clear and vulnerable.

"And you've been very kind to me, and I'm sorry that I - couldn't see that right away. That I judged you. And I'm afraid I still will, because I've never had a friend who's a - ghost."

"A - _friend_?"

"Isn't that what we are? Friends?"

He swallowed and his gaze wavered. 

"I mean, unless you don't want us to be friends anymore since I've reacted like a hysterical cow when I found out you're a ghost?"

It still felt awkward to say the word. 

Thomas shook his head.

"No. I mean, yes, I would appreciate a friendship, my lady."

You smiled. 

_My lady._

"I may need a little time to come to terms with things. Your past. But then I guess I need to take a leaf out of my own book and just trust you."

"You would be willing to do that?"

"Well, you haven't murdered me so far, have you?"

There was a look of shock on his face and you realised what you had said.

"Sorry, that was - uh - that was very insensitive of me - tactless. I'm sorry."

You blushed, feeling bad.

After what he had told you, it sounded as though he had spent the past one hundred years, feeling guilty about what he had done, and here you were, making him feel even worse. _How insensitive could you be?_

There was a long awkward silence.

"Can I - ask you - I mean, about - what you are? About being a ghost? I imagined ghosts to be translucent, but you look so _solid_? Like a normal person? ... I mean, not that you're not normal ... I mean ..." 

_Good god, this was a little awkward._

“Time allows you to master certain things.”

“I don't mean to be disrespectful, I just feel that I don't know anything about you.”

“You know me much better than you think."

"But I - I don't know anything about _ghosts_. Maybe you could help me? Overcome my fear, I mean?"

He averted his eyes and ran his fingers over the back of a chair. 

"Most ghosts are soulless spirits. No more than ethereal copies of their deceased physical body, driven and sustained by emotional energy. They are unconscious of their actions and often filled with malice, wandering about like mindless beasts. Those ghosts do not have control over their appearance or actions."

"So - what makes you different?"

"I still have my soul."

"Your _soul_?"

"I function like any other human being, apart from the fact that I don't have a body. It gives me certain advantages. I can control my appearance, my actions.”

"What do you mean by copies of the physical body?"

"You are only aware of the body that you perceive with your eyes, but there is a subtle physical form, which is an exact copy of the gross physical. This body is made up from Astral energy. Shamans and spiritual masters who have mastered and control this body can use this body and even travel in their Astral form."

You stared at him.

"That sounds quite - out there." You muttered. "But then, I'm having a perfectly normal conversation with a ghost, so I guess it's all relative." You rubbed your forehead, then turned back towards him.

"So this", you gestured at him, "Is your subtle form? Your astral body?"

He nodded.

"Why does it look solid, but when I touch it, I can reach right through it?"

"Concentration and mental discipline. I only _appear_ solid."

"But then - how - how do you touch things? I've seen you pick things up - you've decorated the tree with us, you walk up and down the stairs - how?"

"Training. My spirit form allows me to influence matter on a subtle level. I do not actually touch things, but move them with my mind."

"Wow. You mean you - "

"Would you like me to demonstrate?"

You nodded, feeling your heart pound a little faster. 

Out of excitement, you noticed, not fear.

You'd always been interested in mystics, magic and metaphysical stuff. Maybe befriending a ghost would turn out much more interesting and enjoyable than you had expected it to be. 

Thomas walked over to the book shelf and pulled out a book, then he let go of it and it kept hanging there, in mid air. 

Your jaw dropped. 

He smiled at your reaction.

The then floated towards the side table, where Thomas plucked it out of the air and flicked his fingers through the pages. When he let it go, the pages were still moving, only that there wasn't anyone moving them. 

"I do not actually touch it, but move it with my thoughts, it merely appears as though I'm touching it. It took a couple of years of mental discipline to get to this point. My solid form was much easier to master - I used to look very much like a ghost. Pale and transparent."

He picked the book out of the air, closed it and placed it on the table. When he looked up at you, you were still staring - wide eyed. 

He frowned. 

"Did I - did this scare you?'

"No." You managed a smile. "Just the opposite, actually!"

He gave a huffy little laugh, one of those dimple ones that you liked so much and you felt your smile widen. 

"You're a show off." You said to him and he laughed softly. "But I must admit, you're much more talented than David Copperfield."

"I'm certainly pleased that I am not entirely terrifying."

"It's just very surreal."

"Not as surreal as you think. Quantum science explains that we move matter with our mind. It is our thoughts that move molecules."

You tried to take in what he had just explained. It was mind-boggling. And you loved it. 

"Why are you cold?"

"The atoms in the air vibrate slower when they get in contact with my Astral body. That is why it appears cold. I could explain it to you in more detail, but I am almost certain the explanation would bore you."

"Have you learnt all this by reading books?"

"Most of it. I have a lot of time on my hands, so I try to learn. And since I was forced to broaden my view of the world, I do my best to learn about different realities."

"Can I - touch you?"

Thomas looked taken aback by your question, but then his eyes came alight with familiar softness.

"Are you certain about this?"

You nodded. 

"It may not be a pleasant experience." He threw in.

"Please, Thomas."

He hesitantly moved closer and you patted the bed beside you with your hand. Thomas sat down, although you clearly noticed now that the mattress did not dip under his weight, like it should have.

You stared at it for a moment, then raised your eyes to the dark-haired man who now sat about two feet away. 

"Maybe we shouldn't -" He started but you shook your head.

The look in his eyes was soft. They were open, and vulnerable.

You carefully reached out your hand to touch his arm, flinching back a little before you actually did.

Shifting your eyes to his briefly, you saw him watching you intently, waiting.

You reached forward again. Slowly.

There was a tingle in your fingers as you touched what should have been the fabric of his shirt.

It didn't feel cold. Rather prickling. A bit like sticking your fingers into a fizzy drink.

Then you went deeper and this was when it started to get cold. As if you were dipping your hand in icy water. You pulled it back. 

"Are you alright?" Thomas frowned.

You nodded.

"What - what does it feel like?"

"You don't know?" You met his eyes, unable to hide the surprise you felt. 

Thomas shook his head. 

"Nobody has ever really touched me before. Or cared to explain what it felt like if they did accidentally. They try to - avoid touching me."

_Oh._

"On the surface it feels - fizzy and then when I went deeper it felt like dipping my hand into a bucket of ice water. What does it feel like for you?"

"It feels - I can feel something."

You nodded.

Then you grinned at him, feeling a little giddy.

"I think I'm starting to like this, Thomas. Do you want to touch me?"

"Touch - you?" His expression turned from relaxed to slightly shocked.

You nodded.

"Touch me." 

His eyes flicked back and forth between yours, then down at your hand that rested on the bed beside you.

Thomas cautiously lifted his fingers, hesitated and searched your eyes again.

You nodded and smiled.

His fingers stroked over the back of your hand. 

_Oh my god._

You sucked in a breath as a shudder ran down your spine.

Not one of fear though. A very pleasant one.

His touch felt - _incredibly_ good.

_Ok, NOT what you had expected._

You closed your eyes and bit your lip.

"Is it - is it hurting you?" Thomas quickly withdrew his hand and it took you a moment to collect yourself before you shook your head.

"No. It feels good." 

You saw the sincere relief on his face and instinctively reached out to cup his cheek.

He closed his eyes.

"I can feel you." He muttered.

You could feel him too. A gentle tingle on your skin.

"Is it awkward?" You frowned.

He shook his head, then he leaned into your touch and you felt him. A pleasant chilly sensation that prickled along your skin.

He carefully lay his hand on top of yours and you closed your eyes, feeling his fingers run along the back of your hand. They gently wrapped around your wrist, before he trailed two fingers down your arm, causing you to shudder and goosebumps to blossom all over skin.

_Good god. This was -_

You shivered and pulled your hand back.

_\- amazing._

When you opened your eyes, Thomas was staring at you.

Those blue eyes larger than you'd seen them before, his pupils dilated so far that only a blue rim was left around them.

He swallowed. 

"I - I could feel you."

Your heart did a little skip.

"I could feel you too, Thomas."

He averted his gaze and you felt him withdraw. 

"I better let you get on with things. You probably have a lot of work to do."

He rose quickly and you reached forward to hold him back, which resulted in you falling flat onto your face as you grabbed icy cold thin air.

"I'm sorry." He muttered awkwardly.

You chuckled and braced yourself on your elbows.

"Thomas - you know, it's Christmas and I don't have to do any work. To be honest, I've been looking forward to spending time with you."

"And you still - _want_ to?"

You nodded. 

"Why don't you sit back down? Or I mean, if you want to go somewhere else, we can go somewhere else?"

"No, your room will do just fine."

He sat back down on your bed and you moved up to lean against the head board, removing the cushions next to you.

"Why don't you come and sit up here, it's way more comfortable."

He moved next to you and you rolled your head to the side, looking at him. He offered you a smile. 

"Can I ask you more questions? If you get annoyed let me know, ok?"

He huffed a chuckle.

"I doubt that your presence could ever be an annoyance to me."

"You have to stop being such a charmer, Thomas."

"Why would I want to, my lady? My words ever so often bring a rosy glow to your cheeks that is enchanting." 

He chuckled softly. "Just like now."

_Cheeky ghost._

He was utterly adorable when he chuckled like this and his eyes were soft and deep, so you quickly turned away. 

"How can you own and run a company? Do those people who work for you know what you are?"

He laughed and shook his head.

"They don't. Nobody is aware of this, apart from Mrs Hudson, the twins and my business associate. I supplied ideas and inventions and he arranged the marketing. It started out as a small company that became very successful. Around the turn of the millennium, we changed strategy and went into digital business and now we mainly do web design. Computers are terribly easy to manipulate so I can fix problems from here, should they appear. But we have an actual office in London. I have a small team of very good people. Nobody knows what I am, only that I have a condition that makes me housebound. We mostly arrange things over the phone or by email, Mrs Hudson helps me as well."

"Wow." You had to admit it was rather impressive. 

An entrepreneur ghost.

"So that business partner - he knows you're a ghost?"

"He does."

"Sounds like a very open-minded man."

"You could say so."

You leaned your head back against the head board and looked over at Thomas.

"I'm sorry, Thomas, that I reacted like I did. I actually really -" You broke off when he turned his head to catch your gaze.

His face was so close.

Those blue eyes catching your gaze with a soft intensity that made your heart beat a lot faster than it should have.

"You were saying?" He asked softly.

"I - I really like you." You breathed. 

Thomas eyes shifted between yours.

"May I - touch you again?" 

You nodded.

He slowly brought his hand up to your face, and you closed your eyes when he brushed his fingers over your cheek. 

It felt good. His touch felt so good.

"May I -"

You opened your eyes and looked at him.

"May I kiss you?"

You held your breath. 

Then you nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm ... let's see if the ghost's a good kisser :)


	11. Stranger things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas and reader get a little closer :)

There was a tingle, then the brush of his lips against yours and your eyes fluttered closed, while your lips parted.

You felt his hand cup your face, his open mouth move against yours and you instinctively reached out to touch him. To thread your fingers through his hair. 

Your hand plunged right through him and a small groan of frustration escaped you.

Thomas drew away and you reached out again to pull him back only to reach right through him again. 

Judging by the look he gave you, the frustration you felt was clearly written all over your face. 

_This wasn't fair._

You leaned forward to catch his lips and he responded. This time you didn't try and touch him. You just focused on his kiss.

Focused on the sensation of his lips against yours.

Carefully, you dipped your tongue into his mouth and he groaned softly, pushing his open mouth against yours, searching your tongue with his. You froze, entirely captivated by the fact that the kiss of a ghost, of a man you could not touch, could be so entirely "real". 

Better even. It felt much more intense, because you had to relate more on your subtle senses.

"I've never been kissed - this way." Thomas said when he pulled away, his eyes alight with a mixture of innocent excitement and desire.

"Neither have I." You chuckled and he laughed softly.

"Well, it is a first for both of us then." Thomas leaned back against the head board, his face turned towards you a smile lingering on his lips.

You wanted to lean forward and snuggle up against him, which you chose not to do as it would have elicited another bout of frustration. 

So the two of you merely sat there for a few minutes, looking at each other. 

"What now?" You asked.

Thomas' eyes shifted back and forth between yours.

"I don't know." He sighed. "I only know that for the first time ever since I've been cursed to live like this I feel - happy."

You turned your hand palm up and rested it on the bed next to him. Thomas glanced at it for a moment, before he hesitantly placed his hand in it.

You shivered.

"This is not - an ideal situation, is it?" He asked, still looking at your hands, running his fingers over your palm and along your fingers.

"I guess not." You replied watching him as he drew patterns onto your palm, and trying to control the feelings it elicited in your body.

"I am not experienced with this."

"You mean, you never had a girlfriend, ever since you turned ghost?" You teased him.

He gave you a slightly shocked look. 

"I'm teasing you, Thomas."

He relaxed.

"I meant to say that I do not have much experience with - romance and - well, women in general."

"Oh."

You would have liked to ask him if he never had sex with his wives, but decided against it as it would quite likely made him uncomfortable. Then you remembered that he had had an incestuous relationship with his sister and you weren't sure if you were ready to hear any details about that. 

A heavy sigh escaped him and he averted his eyes and looked out the window, resting his hand in yours. 

You wondered what it was like for him to exist for over one hundred years and still feel so heavily about his past. But then, he never had a chance to escape it, hadn't he?

He was trapped in a place that constantly reminded him of all the awful things he had done.

"Thomas?"

He turned to look at you.

"I - well, I just want to let you know that if you want to talk about anything - about your past - I am willing to listen. It looks like it still has a lot of power over you."

His gaze briefly wandered over your face, before he turned away again.

"I -- did a lot of things I regret deeply."

"It must be hard for you to live here and constantly be reminded of these things."

He huffed.

"I cannot even imagine how difficult it must be for you, because you cannot escape it. You cannot change what you have done. Maybe, maybe you need to accept things as they are?"

Slowly, he turned towards you, his watery blue eyes searching yours.

"The way you - accept me?" He asked softly. There was such vulnerability in his question.

"I - I don't know. I guess, even I still judge you - well, part of me does - for being a ghost - and I'm - I'm a little mad with you for flirting with me."

"It is because you are alluring." He leaned his head back against the head board and closed his eyes. 

"But you knew that you were - _what_ you are and never cared to tell me."

"And what if I _had_ told you? I did such terrible things that I fear cannot be forgiven. I aided in murdering my wives and Lucille killed our parents because of _me_. To protect me. Nobody ever found out what really happened to my father, they thought he never returned from a trip overseas. But we hid his body in the clay vaults. Just like - just like -" He broke off and swallowed. "Just like we hid Pamela, Margaret and Enola's."

You felt cold all of a sudden. And torn.

Here you were, sitting next to a man who had murdered others and yet, you felt your heart contract painfully. Hurting for him. 

He had suffered from his guilt and shame for over one hundred years. This was his own version of hell. Thomas had been trapped in his guilt and pain for over a century. Was this not enough? How long did he have to suffer?

You wished that you could have wrapped your arms around him and comforted him. 

Which was impossible, of course, since you couldn't touch him.

 _And insane._ Your mind told you. _He is a murderer._

 _He is a human being._ Your heart said.

 _He_ was _a human being_. Your mind answered.

 _He is hurting. He needs love._ Your heart said, and before your mind could answer you leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss on Thomas' cheek. 

He opened his eyes and you felt his fingers brush your cheek. 

"You need to leave Allerdale Hall." He whispered.

"What? Why?"

"Because it is cursed. I should have never allowed myself to befriend you, to - develop feelings for you. I will only bring you grief."

"Thomas."

"You don't understand. You must leave before I cannot let you go, don't you see? Before I do not _want_ to let you go!" 

His eyes grew large as he spoke and the urgency in his voice confused you. 

"Will you - when you say that - does it mean - I mean - do you mean that -" You could not bring yourself to ask the question. 

"Do I - do I mean what?" Now it was his turn to look confused.

"Do you mean, you are going to hurt me if I wish to leave?"

Your question seemed to shock him because he drew back and vigorously shook his head.

"I would never hurt you."

You felt yourself relax. You believed him.

You trusted him. 

 _Silly girl,_ your mind whispered. _He's a murderer and a ghost._

But when you looked at him, all you saw was those pleading eyes. This yearning to be forgiven. The longing to be free from the knowledge that those things he did couldn't be undone. 

"I'm sorry, I asked that, Thomas."

He shook his head again.

"You have every right to doubt me. I'm a murderer. A deranged man who doesn't deserve love."

"Don't say that."

"Nobody as beautiful as you should be cursed with my - my love. It is a horrid love that destroys whatever it touches." He withdrew his hand as he spoke and rested it in his lap, staring down at it.

You wanted to hold him so badly.

"I wish I could hold you, Thomas." You said softly. "Can I hold you?"

He sighed and placed his head on your shoulder. You ran your fingers through his hair. It was an odd sensation, but Thomas could feel it and it seemed to soothe him as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. 

"Everybody deserves love, Thomas. _Everybody_ does."

For a while you stayed like this. In silence. You hoped that he would feel some kind of comfort, but the position you were sitting in was uncomfortable, so you moved to lie back on the bed and tapped your chest. 

"Shouldn't I be the one comforting you?"

"You are comforting me. With your presence. Come here." You offered him a smile and to your relief he did not hesitate to place his head on your chest. You felt his arms wrap around you as he lay down beside you.

"I am not going anywhere, for now, Thomas." You whispered. 

"But my love is cursed. I don't want you to suffer." He breathed.

You stared up at the canopy of the bed. 

Fate seemed so cruel sometimes. You wished nothing more than to soothe him, love him, and he probably felt the same way - and yet, both of you knew that this would never work. You were worlds apart - quite literally. 

And how whimsical was the fact that you had been afraid of ghosts for your entire life and happened to fall in love with one?

It almost seemed that the two of you had found each other to help one another out. 

Well, maybe fate wasn't so cruel after all. 

"What if - what if this is meant to be, Thomas?"

"What if what is meant to be?"

"Us. You were looking for company, when you placed that ad, weren't you? You were looking for someone to talk to?"

"Not someone I would fall in love with."

"No. Maybe not consciously, at least. But I'm - you know - I've always been afraid of ghosts - and now, look where I am. I'm holding one in my arms."

He was quiet.

"Maybe we were meant to come together? I mean, stranger things have happened, right?"

This actually made him chuckle softly. It was like music to your ears, but it died off as suddenly as it had come on.

"It can't be. You are a good person."

"So are you."

"I am not. If I was - I would have been forgiven and I would have left this pathetic existence by now."

"I don't understand."

"Ghosts don't stay around forever. Once they are forgiven, they are released from the bonds that bind them."

"And is this what you want? To leave?"

"I - I wish to find peace." He sighed. "Atonement. I have tried over the years to rectify what I have done."

"How?"

"The company has gifted large amounts of money to my wives' families. We set up a foundation for abused children and I have supported the twins financially, since they started coming to Allerdale Hall. They are such bright girls. I wish for them to be able to study and go to university when they finished home schooling. I have attempted to set things right, and yet, I just cannot seem to find peace." 

"Maybe peace is not something you will find in the things you do. You need to find it in your mind. Your heart."

"Do I even own such a thing?"

"You said you own a soul."

"I may have sold my soul to the devil to escape the pain."

"You are being too hard on yourself, Thomas. Look at me."

He braced himself on his elbows and gazed down at you, grief mixed with confusion lay in the depth of his eyes.

"A few moments ago, you told me you were happy. Is it so difficult to hold onto that feeling?"

"If it means that my happiness is going to destroy yours, it is."

"Stop it." You were surprised about the sternness in your voice, and Thomas looked taken aback. "Stop blaming yourself right now."

You reached up to cup his cheek and he closed his eyes. 

"If you cannot forgive _yourself_ , Thomas, how do you think will you ever find peace?" 

When Thomas' eyes opened you were unable to read his gaze. It seemed that a myriad emotions reflected in his eyes in this moment. 

Then his gaze shifted to your lips and he bent down to kiss you. It was a slow and gentle kiss and you allowed his tongue to explore your mouth.

Good god, it sent shudders of pleasure right through you, but it also filled you with warmth and a deep feeling of - love. 

When your lips parted, his mouth hovered over yours for a moment, before he placed his head back on your chest.

"I loved her." He sighed softly. 

"Who?"

"Edith."

"Your wife?"

_Was there a stab of jealousy in your chest?_

"Yes. I loved her from the moment she crossed my path, and I knew I had to make her mine. I knew I could not leave her. I found myself thinking of her in the most inopportune moments of the day and I told her that a link existed between my heart and hers, and that, should that link be broken, my heart would cease to be and I would die. It was the truth. And all I brought her was pain and death."

"It's in the past." 

He suddenly sat up. 

"It is getting late, I should leave you to get some rest."

He was right, it was getting late - but ...

"Why don't you stay the night?" He did not look at you and did not say anything, so you added, "I would feel safer with you here - and I thought you might want that too."

He shook his head. 

"I shouldn't."

You realised that he may have gotten the wrong idea about your question, so you quickly added,

"I meant we could snuggle up and just - keep each other company. Loki seems to have disappeared. He usually keeps me company at night and I don't want to be alone."

At that Thomas eyes snapped up to meet yours.

"Loki has been spending the nights here?"

"You know that he has. I mean, he was here when you tried to steal the diary, and he's been waiting on my bed every single night since then."

A shadow of shame crossed his face at the mention of the diary. 

"Every single night?" He muttered.

_Oh, looks like someone's jealous._

"Uhm, yes. Well, most of them."

He swallowed, then he nodded. 

"Fine. I will stay." Thomas nodded.

_Ok, well, that was easy._

"I'll just change into my jammies and brush my teeth. I'll be back in a minute." You slipped off the bed and retrieved your pyjamas from under your pillow, before you disappeared to the bathroom.

You couldn't help feeling giddy about Thomas staying. It was obvious that you craved his company as much as he needed yours. You'd never really invited a man into your bed before, and you had not considered the implications of this. 

When you asked Thomas to stay, you had meant it in an innocent way - it would be comforting for both of you, but now you realised that this could easily lead to something more than mere _snuggling_. 

But then, it was only the two of you in this huge house for another week. And judging by the way Thomas had kissed you, and how reluctant he was to stay, it was evident that he was interested in more. 

You finished brushing your teeth and washed your face before you put your pyjamas on.

Thomas stood by the window, when you came back to your room and slipped under the duvet. When he did not move you braced yourself on an elbow and looked at him. 

"When I said you could stay with me, I meant - here, beside me." 

He moved to sit next to you on the bed.

"You shouldn't tempt me."

"No, you're right. But don't you think we're fooling ourselves? I will be alone with you for another week, after that I'll be here for another two months. If it doesn't happen tonight, it will happen eventually. I'm only asking you to hold me, nothing more - and we'll see what happens from there?"

"You are -" He broke off. 

"I'm what?"

"Unfathomable. And forthright."

You laughed softly. 

"I'm surprised myself, believe me." You whispered, then you turned of the light and snuggled up on your side under the warm duvet. 

You felt him slip in behind you, one of his arms wrapped around you and his body moulded to your back as he spooned you. After a moment, Thomas' fingers moved and he played with your hair, you purred contently and heard him chuckle softly. His touch ghosted along the skin of your neck, brushing your hair over your shoulder.

A pair of cool lips pressed a soft kiss on your bare neck. You involuntarily arched your back and pushed against him. 

He moaned softly in response.

Keeping his lips against your skin, his hand roamed over your shoulder and under the duvet. The sensation of his touch made goosebumps blossom all over your body and you shuddered.

You pressed your thighs together. His touch was so incredibly arousing, it was embarrassing, and you felt your face flush.

"Do you like this?" He murmured. 

"I - uh - yes - I do." You stuttered.

His hand traveled to your waist and rested there for a moment before it slipped under the top of your pyjamas to stroke your belly. Your breath hitched. 

Thomas pressed closer against you.

"This is - enough." He muttered. "Just holding you, is enough. Sleep now."

You sighed. Not sure if you were relieved or disappointed about his coyness.

But you were undeniably _happy,_ becauseThomas' embrace felt incredibly good. 

"Are you happy, Thomas?"

"No." There was a pause. "I am - grateful. Grateful to you, my beautiful angel." 

"Thank you for staying with me."

"You are most welcome."

"Goodnight, Thomas."

"Goodnight, my butterfly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so you're thinking - what??? No smut???  
> and.... what about Lucille? ... We'll get to that soon enough, don't worry


	12. Surreal situations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you sooo much for your patience!! And Yay!! Thomas the spectacular spectre is back!! And he's getting closer .... and then there's also - well, read and see...
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you will enjoy this :))))

You lay awake for a while. 

Relishing the sensation of Thomas' fingers tenderly stroking your skin. His presence was incredibly soothing, but his words filled your heart with sadness.

Why could he not just allow himself to be happy? Why could he not let go of the guilt he felt? The fear?

Eventually you drifted into sleep, only to awake in the early hours of the morning, your heart beating frantically, sweat pouring out of your pores and your breath coming in shallow gasps.

You could not remember the dream, but it had you frozen in panic and for a moment you did not know where you where or if it was real or merely a dream.

"Is everything alright?" Thomas whispered softly, his touch ghosting over your skin. 

Thomas. You were with Thomas.

Your body relaxed instantly as you focused your awareness on him spooning you and became conscious that you were in your bed, in Allerdale Hall, together with Thomas.

"You are afraid. I can sense your fear." His mouth was right by your ear and you would have felt his breath on your skin, had he been able to breathe.

"I - I had a nightmare." You muttered.

"You are safe." He whispered, his words sweet and innocent. 

"Thank you, Thomas. For being here."

You always felt better with light after you had an anxiety attack, so you reached out and switched on the lamp on the bedside table, before you turned around in his arms to look at him. Worry clouded his gaze and you brought your hand up to cup his cheek.

"If you can sense my fear, can't you sense how much I like you?"

A weak smile touched his features, but did not reach his eyes.

"I admit that I might be afraid of sensing that."

"You are being incredibly hard on yourself, Thomas, don't you think?" You touched your fingers to his lips, feeling the tingle of his presence, but also finding it irritating that you could not actually touch him. It was much better when you kept your hands to yourself and allowed him to touch you. At least, then, you could feel him.

"Would you like to touch me?" 

You turned onto your back and looked up at Thomas. In a bold move, you pulled your pyjama's over your head and lay back against the pillows, exposing your bare skin to his gaze. His eyes darkened and for a moment you thought that he would resist, but then his slender fingers tentatively smoothed over your skin, drawing a line from your neck down the centre of your body.

"You are beautiful", he whispered. The feeling of his hand on your skin and the darkness in Thomas' eyes as he took in your form, encouraged you.

"Touch me." You arched your back upwards, and he accepted the invitation and and cupped your breast, holding your gaze, he lowered his head and swirled his tongue around your nipple.

_Heavens! That did feel far too good!_

A soft mewl escaped you, turning into a moan when his mouth closed over you and he sucked.

"Oh god!" You almost pushed him away, but fisted the sheets instead.

It was too much. You were too sensitive and his touch was too intense. You felt your core ache painfully at his touch.

_How could this be so arousing when he did not even touch you properly? He was a ghost for god's sake._

Thomas moved on top of you, his lips brushing yours before they wandered down your throat. 

One of your hands grabbed his hair and you groaned in frustration. 

_Damn ghost._

You wanted to touch him so badly. You reached above your head to grip the headboard with both hands so that you wouldn't be tempted to touch him, while his mouth moved down your body to caress your other breast. 

Even though you could not feel his breath, you could tell he was breathing heavily. 

Crazy. YOu'd never thought about it. If it was possible for ghosts to get aroused. 

There was a tug on your pants and you gasped.

Your eyes snapped open to look at Thomas and your eyes went wide as you realised that your pants were being pulled down your legs, while his hands and mouth were still caressing your breasts. Your pyjamas slipped over your ankles and were discarded, so that you now lay naked underneath him. 

"Thomas." You whispered and he immediately looked up. "My pants - how?" Confusion crossed his features before realisation dawned and he lowered his eyes. 

"My apologies, I was getting ahead of myself. I'm afraid, that the thought of undressing you - just - well, just made it happen." He looked sheepish as well as embarrassed and you had to laugh. 

"Looks like I have to watch out with you around." You joked and he smiled.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I - I like it."

He caught your lips with his, sucking your lower lip into his mouth, and you felt your legs being pushed apart by invisible hands, while Thomas' hand slipped between them, his touch teasing your warmth. If anyone one ever claimed that it was impossible to have sex with a ghost, you would be able to enthusiastically prove them wrong. It was not only possible, but also extremely enjoyable. He wasn't really there and yet you could undeniably feel his touch circling your sensitive bud, before his fingers sank into you and you jerked your hips up, crying out at the sensation.

_How - did - that - even work?_

You could clearly feel him inside you. And he evidently felt you, judging by the way he moaned and placed open mouth kisses on your neck and shoulder as he pumped his fingers into you in a steady rhythm.

_Sweet Lord. This was heaven._

"I want to touch you." You groaned. "Thomas, I want to touch you so badly."

He movements slowed and he lifted his head to gaze at you.

_More. you needed more._

"Please, Thomas."

His eyes watched you cautiously.

"Would you - like me to stop?" He asked carefully.

_What?_

"NO!" You blushed as soon as you realised you had basically yelled the word at him. 

A smirk appeared on Thomas' face. 

"Good."

He picked up the pace with his fingers and soon had you groaning and writing under him, as he alternated between kissing you and merely watching you losing yourself in the pleasure his touch aroused. It did not take long until you fell apart, a sheen of perspiration covering your skin and your chest heaving, you sank back against the pillows.

When you opened your eyes, you found him watching you with a content smile on his face. You reached up to cup his cheek, but half way through reaching out to touch him, you caught yourself, and curled your fingers into a fist. Tears of frustration welled up in your eyes and Thomas gaze shifted.

"Did I hurt you?"

You shook your head. 

You just wished you could wrap your arms around him and hold him. Feel him. Touch him.

"I just want to touch you. It's - it's frustrating I cannot touch you."

"I wish I could make it more enjoyable for you." He leaned down and brushed a kiss on your lips. 

"I just want to hold you in my arms, touch you. Give something back at least."

"You are giving me so much, my little butterfly." He rolled onto his side and watched you while his hand trailed over your skin in a featherlight touch. "Much more than I deserve."

When he wrapped you in his arms, you dozed off and woke hours later in a cold bed without Thomas.

_Had you just imagined it all? No way._

You rose with a groan and glanced out the window. The pale grey of dawn dipped the white countryside into an eerie light and the thick cloud cover did not do anything to brighten the mood. No running today. There was too much snow out there. You would light the fires, have breakfast and wait for Thomas. Or maybe you would go upstairs to seek him out. 

_You shouldn't be up here. Don't ever come up here by yourself._

Thomas' words rang through your mind.

Ok, you would wait.

After a long hot shower and a good breakfast, there was still no sign of Thomas.

_Maybe he was working? He could have at least kissed you goodbye. Did ghosts have second thoughts the morning after?_

Maybe you should just go upstairs.

But you decided to give him the benefit of doubt, so you curled up in your bed to read. A movement caught your attention and a moment later, Loki gracefully leaped onto your bed, walking straight up to you, demanding your attention. You chuckled and scratched his head, which he responded to with a low purr. 

"Hey, where have you been? I've missed you. Thomas had to spend the night here, because I didn't want to be lonely."

He nipped at your finger and you pulled your hand back. 

"Don't tell me you're jealous of Thomas." The cat gave you a haughty look before he curled up by your side. You sank your fingers into his fur, relishing the warmth and the feeling of his body vibrating from the purr he offered for your affections. 

You must have dozed off again, because when you came to, there was a pair of arms wrapped around you and you snuggled closer into the warm embrace. You felt his chest vibrate with a low purr, then a deep, velvet voice whispered,

“You are not really going to fall for a ghost, are you?”

You squeaked, jumped up and scrambled off your bed. Eyes wide and heart beating frantically, you watched as a rahter naked, yet undeniably beautiful dark-haired man stretched out on your bed. He turned to his side, facing you and cocked an eyebrow as he took in your obviously shocked expression.

“You've let me snuggle up against you night after night and when I return the favour you pretend not to like my touch? Ungrateful creature.”

Your jaw dropped, literally, as your mind put two and two together.

“L-Loki?”

“At your service.”

_Nonono. Shitshitshit. This couldn't be happening._

You pinched your arm. 

He was still lounging on your bed.

You slapped yourself. 

He smirked.

You rubbed your eyes.

He merely shook his head.

"I'm going crazy." You sniggered. "I'm insane. I mean, I'm having sex with a ghost and now I'm speaking to a cat, who's not a cat anymore, but a naked, attractive man leisurely lounging on my bed! This is - insane!"

"Well, thank you. For the compliment."

"You're not real."

"And you are in denial, darling."

He propped himself up on his elbow and patted the spot on the bed next to him.

“Now come back to bed, my lovely girl. You know I won't scratch ... or bite.”

You shook your head and he rolled his eyes.

"You share your bed with a ghost and when it comes to sharing it with a god you start playing coy?"

You stayed where you are.

"Who - who are you?"

“Allow me to introduce myself", He made a gesture of courtesy with his hand, "I am Loki, God of Mischief and Lies. Silver tongued traveller. Trouble maker. Lord of Chaos. Seducer of maidens and lover of goddesses. And since the 21stcenturty also a pop culture celebrity.”

He held your gaze and you chuckled involuntairily at the introduction. He seemed satisfied with your reaction and offered you a smile, the kind of comforting smile that Loki the cat would have offered you, had he been able to smile. 

You hesitantly took a step forward towards the bed.

"Can you -", You let your gaze travel over his naked form, "Can you put some clothes on?"

He frowned. 

"You seem rather pleased with my appearance - why would I wish to spoil that?"

He was unreasonably attractive and he was entirely aware of it, going by the smirk that lingered on the corners of his mouth. You shook your head.

"That's not - why - "

"Well, that's settled then. It is rather liberating not to have to cover myself, especially since I've grown used to being quite uninhibited around you."

"Uh. Well, It's still - kind of awkward."

"Not for me, it's not." He smirked. "Do not fret, little mortal, I will not ask you to scratch my tummy while in this form. Unless of course it pleases you to do so." 

“Am I going crazy?” You muttered as you sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at the man, forcefully trying to keep your eyes on his face, which, as you realised was just as attractive as the rest of him. Green eyes with long dark lashes, high cheekbones, pale, flawless skin and raven hair that fell to his shoulders. 

_Yup, he looked like a god._

“Why would you be crazy, darling? Because you took a ghost as your lover, and a naked Norse god is lounging in you bed?" he pulled back the duvet and patted the mattress. "Now come back to bed."

You snuck under the duvet, without taking your eyes off him.

“What do you want?” 

“I want to help you.” His gaze rested on your face and much to your relief he did not make a move to touch you.

_This is Loki. You've let him sleep in your bed countless times and never had a problem with it._

_Because he was a cat!_

_Right._

_This was insane! Absolutely insane!_

“Help me?” you tried to keep your voice from jittering.

"You wish to be able to touch him, do you not?" The smirk on his feature lingered as he awaited your answer.

"I do." You admitted. 

"I can make it possible."

"You would - do that?"

"That's what I do. I help unfortunate souls, like yourself."

Your inner alarm bells went off at his words. They sounded a little too much like those of a wicked fairy stepmother. 

"And - for what price?" You enquired carefully.

"Ah, you are a smart one, aren't you?" He picked at his nails. "I'm not asking much. Just a token really, a trifle. What I want from you is - your soul."

"MY SOUL?" You shrieked. "What are you, the devil?"

Loki laughed out loud, evidently highly amused at your reaction. He sniggered and shook his head before he regained his composure and said calmly. 

"I was jesting, dear."

"That wasn't very funny." You scowled at him. “So, if you help me - what do you get out of all this?”

"A kiss."

_Damn bastard. What kind of god was he? Mischief, right. And trouble._

"A kiss? What kind of payment is that?"

"Do you have to question _everything_ I say?"

"Why do you think I would make a deal with you?"

"You're in love with a ghost. So, frankly, why _not_?"

You openly glared at him. He was right. All this was crazy enough. 

"How will you do it?"

"I can give him solid form. For a few days at least. So, he will become like a human being."

"And all you want for that is - a kiss?"

He nodded, but the mischievous glint in his eyes made you wary. 

“You find me attractive, do you not?” He trailed his finger down your throat and you swallowed, but did not flinch under his touch. "It is not an impossible thing to ask, is it? Think of what you will gain. It's Christmas after all. Romantic cuddles in front of the fire place. Proper kisses. Sultry affections. "

"Ok." You said. "Fine."

"Oh" He looked at you innocently, "and I will have access to your room anytime, and will not be denied to sleep in your bed or any of your affections."

"What the hell?!"

"In guise of a cat, of course. I so would not want our relationship to go down the drain because of _this_ ", he gestured down his body and you immediately felt sorry that you had followed the movements of his hand - because your eyes got caught on the rather impressively shaped piece of ... You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head. "You trust Loki - the fur ball -  and I want you to keep this trust. I need you to trust me for this to work."

"Why?"

"All in good time."

He leaned forward towards your face, tapping his finger to his lips.

"Payment." He whispered and you could not tear your gaze away from his alluring green eyes. 

_What on earth were you getting yourself into?_

"Trust me, darling. I want to help you. I have no malicious intentions towards you."

"Says the man who was a cat and now lies naked in my bed."

"God, darling. I'm a god." He chuckled, before he leaned forward to catch your lips with his. You wanted to pull away, but his hand was on the back of your head before you knew it, pressing your lips to his.

“That's enough, Loki.” Thomas' voice cut through the silence in the room like a sword. 

Loki sighed against your mouth before he let you go.

“There's the knight in shining armor.”

“The deal is between you and I. So, leave her out of this.” You had never experienced Thomas angry before, but made a mental not that his ire was not something you would like to provoke again. His blue eyes had turned icy and the fire that burnt inside them held the promise of destruction.

Loki casually stretched out on the bed next to you, showing off all his naked glory, which made Thomas' eyes gleam.

"Someone's a little jealous, it seems." The god purred and offered Thomas a devious smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slaps her forehead* why did I have to get myself into that? Bringing Loki into the story?.... But do not fret, this is still a THOMAS-fic - so, Loki, sorry my love, you don't get to ravish anyone this time.


	13. Our ghost will be back very soon!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To all the lovely readers out there who have been enjoying this story - let me tell you - the next chapter is on it's way!!! 
> 
> just needed to tease a little to get you all exited about it since it has been a LOOOONG while .... ;)
> 
> Thank you!!!

More secrets ... more fluff ... more smut ... more mischief...


	14. Gods and ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, here it is finally!! Sorry again for the tease. This was also meant to be longer and update sooner, but I am struggling with my health at the moment and writing is unfortunately not as easy as it used to be.   
> Hope you will still enjoy this!!
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you 💕

The ghost and the god glared at each other for a long moment. Thomas' eyes flashing with anger, while Loki's lidded ones exuded a calm haughtiness. Then the corners of the god's mouth curled upwards ever so slightly as an amused expression crept on the god's face. It was Loki who finally brought the tension, as well as the silence.

“You are aware that you involved her in the deal the moment you allowed her to cross the threshold of this god-forgotten place, aren't you?”

_Wait, what?_

“Thomas, what – what kind of deal?” You sat up, looking at Thomas, whose eyes shifted to yours the blue suddenly clouded with worry. You felt Loki move behind you, but the last thing you had expected was that he would snake an arm around your waist and pull you towards him as he leaned against the headboard of the bed.

_Blimey. This god had no propriety!_

Surprised and a little shocked, you tried to wiggle out of his embrace, while Thomas took a step forward, his hands clenching into fists.

“Leave her alone, Loki!” the ghost hissed.

Instead, Loki nuzzled your hair and took a deep breath.

_Sweet Lord, he was outrageous!_

“Loki, don't make this any worse.” You huffed and did not even try to hide the annoyance in your voice as you attempted to pry his arms from around you.

“Hm, but I've been wanting to do this for weeks.” He purred softly, completely unfazed by your attempt to escape. There was a distinct similarity between Loki, the cat, and the man in your bed, you could see it clearly now. Unfortunately, you had a soft spot for Loki, the cat, and associating the god with the cat made him appear a lot less intimidating and his cuddly behaviour was almost - cute. 

You rolled your eyes at yourself. Thomas was blazing with fury, because you were in the god's arms, and you had nothing better to do than to think that Loki was _cute_?

“Let me go, Loki.” The stern tone seemed to do it, because his arms suddenly fell away. 

With a sigh of relief you pushed aside the covers and shuffled down to the end of the bed, where Thomas was standing.

“Thomas, I'm sorry – this - this isn't what you think”, you started, then broke off, since you weren't sure what to say. His face appeared even paler than usual, the shadow of anguish haunting his features as he lowered his gaze to you.

“I know.” Thomas muttered softly, the gaze of his blue eyes faltered. “This is - worse.” 

The god behind you chuckled.

“Your ghost is surprisingly sentimental for a restless spirit, little mortal.”

Thomas' hand tightened into a fist and you spun around, narrowing your eyes at Loki.

“Loki, I don't mean to be rude, but could you just shut up for a minute?”

_Oops._

You bit your tongue. But your rudeness only seemed to amuse the god because he merely cocked an eyebrow before he fell quiet. Thomas sat down on the bed beside you without facing you. The heavy sigh that escaped him as he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, made your heart contract. Right now, he looked defeated more than anything else.

"Thomas? What is this deal Loki is talking about?" As much as you wanted to take him into your arms, you needed to know what was going on. 

“Loki helped me", he finally said, rubbing his fingers over his forehead. A wayward black curl fell into his face and he pushed it back with his hand. "It is Loki's doing that I look and act like a person rather than a ghost. My abilities, the company … that is all due to him.”

It made sense. You had suspected there was something not quite right about a ghost having such capacities. But you had never thought that he would have struck a deal with a god. He had struck a deal with a _god_. Why was it realtively easy to accept that ghosts were real and yet you had such trouble wrapping your mind around Loki?

_Apart from that ... didn't people usually make a deal with the devil?_

You glanced over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of the still very naked and attractive god with the glinting green eyes, who was leaning against the headboard of your bed.

 _Close enough_. You thought.

As if he could read your thoughts, Loki rolled his eyes at you, and you quickly turned back to Thomas.

“Why – I mean, you're a ghost - how did you meet Loki?”

“Incidentally. He stayed the night, taking shelter from a thunder storm. And I wasn't an entirely senseless spirit - I was aware of what I had done and I deeply regretted it. I wished I could change things ... and when he found me in my workshop and struck up a conversation as if I was a perfectly normal human being, I - I realised how much I missed that. How much I missed people ... company ... I guess, I was desperate.”

Thomas ran his fingers through his hair and finally turned to face you. 

“So, what does Loki get out of this deal?”

“Followers."

"Followers?"

"People who worship him - in one way or the other.” Your ghost explained.

You raised and eyebrow and turned to Loki, who shrugged.

"You live in an age of affluence and technology, hardly anyone asks the gods for help anymore, so, we have to find different avenues to reach out to people." 

Thomas straightened up, his gaze wandering from you to Loki. 

“Loki has become quite popular over the years." A hint of pride coloured Thomas' voice. 

"But - how?" You asked. 

"The company is hosting several online platforms that distribute material about him – everything from mythological stories to fan works. That way Loki connects with people. He gains access to their thoughts, can influence and manipulate them.”

Loki tutted.

“ _Manipulate_ them? Such crude words, Thomas.” The god's green eyes searched yours and he looked astoundingly innocent when he said, “I do _not_   _manipulate_  anyone, darling, I merely give them what they desire. And it is delightfully surprising what kind of things humans desire – and how chaotic your lives are.”

“You mean, those platforms are – your churches? Your temples?”

He made a dismissive gesture with his hand.

“I never cared much for shrines or temples. I prefer to get directly involved in people's lives. It's much more fun."

_Woah, ok, you were just getting used to the idea that gods were real and now you were confronted with one who used the internet to - to do whatever he was doing._

A rather up-to-date approach, you had to give him that, but nevertheless a little creepy.

“So, you”, you glanced at Thomas “gained some privileges, while – the god over there - gained a few followers? That's the deal?”

“Not just a few followers.  _Thousands_ of followers.” Loki fell in.

“Fine. _Thousands_. But what - what does that have to do with me?”

“Our guileless ghost here decided to fall in love with you. But more importantly, _you_ fell in love with him.” Loki said and Thomas' head snapped up at Loki's words, shooting him a dark glare which the god acknowledged by narrowing his eyes, then he dismissed it with a shrug.

“And this is – a problem?” You frowned, but felt irritation creep up your spine.

_Couldn't either of them tell you straight forward what this deal was all about?_

“Can't either of you just tell me what this stupid deal is all about? And why the hell I am I part of it?”

Both of them stared at you.

Oops, ok, maybe you lost it a little. You hadn't meant to raise your voice.

Loki's green eyes shifted to Thomas, who still stared at you. The ghost swallowed, then licked his lips. 

"You -" Thomas started and broke off. His gaze flickered and he lowered his eyes, looking at his hands. "You are not part of the deal. That is absurd. How could you be? You - you weren't even born then. Loki is attempting to scare you because he is concerned that you might distract me."

Thomas kept his eyes on his hands.

He had lied to you. You could feel it in every fibre of your being. You weren't sure if you were more hurt or angry by his lack of trust. But then, your ghost's eyes searched yours and all you found in them was a fragile vulnerability that pleaded with you not to dig any further. And there was something else. Fear. Thomas was afraid.

You took a deep breath and decided to let it slip. For now.

The god who leaned against the head board of your bed heaved a small sigh, but when you looked at him, Loki offered you a lopsided grin.

"Well" he straightened up a little, "I am a god who keeps his promises. A deal is a deal." 

A green shimmer surrounded Thomas for a moment and your eyes widened in awe. It lasted only for a few seconds, and after the light faded he did not look any different than before, but when you hesitantly reached out to touch your ghost's arm, you quickly pulled your hand back with a small squeal of surprise.

You were able to touch him. Thomas was solid.

"Why don't you two love birds enjoy the next few days in this  _romantic_ hide out.” Loki muttered and you turned around to say something, but instead of the god the large black cat was blinking back at you. With a yawn, he stretched lazily and hopped off the bed. Tail high up in the air Loki stalked out of the room.

For a minute neither Thomas or you said anything, you just looked at each other.

"Are you alright?" Thomas' deep voice was soft and filled with concern.

“Are you really solid now?” You reached out your again to touch his hand, but he retracted it and you glanced up at him in surprise.

“I'm sorry”, he whispered. Hesitantly he extended those slender, pale fingers towards your hand and you cautiously brushed your own fingers against his. The sensation of the cool, smooth skin almost startled you. Your breath hitched and your gaze flicked upwards to meet his, bemused to find a concerned expression on Thomas' face. When his fingers gingerly wrapped around yours, you were relieved to see a smile spread on his lips.

“I can feel you.” He whispered, the tension finally draining from his being. His features softened and he broke into a wide smile, eyes brimming with tears. Your heart did a little skip. It was incredibly beautiful to see Thomas so moved. To see him happy.

In the whole time you had been at Allerdale Hall, he had never looked like this. Not even yesterday, when you had finally found each other and when a tear rolled down his cheek, you could not hold back. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss.

Time seemed to stand still and all else was forgotten, when your lips found his. Feeling rather bold, you pulled yourself up and straddled his lap. Thomas moaned softly, but his embrace was careful, hesitant. Equally hesitantly, he started to explore your mouth with his tongue. While he was careful, you were surprised by your own confidence. Without breaking the kiss you pushed him backwards onto the bed, a soft groan escaped both of you when you brushed against the reasonably hard bulge in his jeans, making you very aware of the fact that Thomas was solid now. Quite literally so. 

You abandoned his lips and sat back, slowly grinding your hips into his hardness as you reached down to rip open the buttons of his jeans. His breath hitched and you could not help but smile at his reaction. Then you slipped your flat hands under his shirt, running them over his chest. He felt good. So good. And his reaction to your touch was priceless.

His hands roamed your hips as you unbuttoned his shirt, leaning forward to trail kissed down his neck and chest. he pushed you down onto him, rocking his hips against yours and when you lifted your head to meet his gazy, those clear, blue eyes were alight with excitement and dark desire. Then his hands moved, he gripped the hem of your shirt and pulled your t-shirt over your head, which left you in nothing but your panties.

With a smile on his face, he reached up to cup your breasts with both hands and you leaned into his touch with an embarrassingly loud moan. Bracing himself on his elbows, he nipped at one of your breasts, teasing you before he finally sucked your taut nipple into your mouth. You buried your fingers in his hair.

“Thomas -that's - please -”

You felt his hands gripping your hips and then found yourself on your back, underneath him, your legs were being pushed apart by a pair of strong hands and his mouth found yours as he settled over you for a kiss, bracing himself on his elbows, breathing heavily. His lips nipped at yours and you teased them with your tongue.

“I want you, Thomas.” You whispered. 

The only answer you got was a groan, so you slipped your hands underneath his jeans and pushed them down over his hips, before you reached between your bodies to free him, fingers curling around his warm length. When you started stroking him, his fingers tightened in your hair while his open mouth wandered down your throat. A low snarl rattled from his throat, when you You moaned and slipped your other hand down your body to push your panties aside so you could align him with your entrance. Both of you held your breath the moment he touched your warmth.

With a sharp breath Thomas entered you and you gasped at the intrusion.

“Relax”, he groaned into your ear, nipping at your earlobe, and with a couple of thrusts he settled himself to the hilt inside you and stilled.

You shuddered, small tingles of pleasure drizzling down your back and thighs. Your hands were on his back now, holding on to him. His cool lips mouthed kisses down your neck and you felt his breath on you, warm and coming in short gasps. Then he started moving, slowly, carefully. You felt your body tense with each thrust, but you needed more. Much more.

"Don't try and be careful, Thomas", you dug your nails into his skin as you spoke, your body arching up against his with each move. "I need you. Just - take me. As hard as you can."

As if you had just given him permission to let go of the reigns, he groaned and started moving faster. Deeper. 

Oh, god, yes. 

One of his hands found your hair and pulled your head back slightly, his lips and teeth suckled the skin of your neck and you allowed your hands to slide down to grab the soft flesh of his ass. With a moan he pulled away from your neck to look at you. Those blue eyes were completely dark as his gaze captured yours and he looked incredibly beautiful as he towered above you with his parted lips, the pale skin, those dark curls framing his face and those eyes that were filled with such longing and desire. The vulnerability was still there, but the careful gentleness was gone as his hips snapped against your in short, deep thrusts. And you felt yourself melt. 

"Take me", you breathed. "I'm all yours."

He moaned your name and you could feel his body stiffen a couple of breaths later. You gripped him harder as he kept thrusting, riding you through his high, releasing his essence deep inside you. Then his movements slowed and his forehead sank down against yours. Despite your own need, you just held him. Feeling his breath against your lips and the cool skin under your fingers that was now covered with perspiration. 

"I -" He breathed, a little out of breath, then broke off to catch your lips in a chaste kiss. when your lips parted, he pushed himself up on his elbows and you wrapped your legs around his to keep him from moving away, then you cupped his face with one of your hands. 

"You are beautiful, Thomas."

His eyes were soft and he lowered his gaze to your lips. 

"But I - I did not satisfy you." 

"Not - _yet_." You replied with a smirk and he broke into a toothy smile. Perfect pearl white teeth and those small dimples in his cheeks that you had come to like. "But we have all night, don't we?"

 

 


End file.
